


The Devil Would Throw Roses

by gypsiangel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU after a certain bit, College Student Remus Lupin, Darcy Lewis is Lily Evans Potter, Darcy isn't as different from Lily as one would think, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Grief, He's still super sassy and a bit of a jerk, Hurt/Comfort, Just about everyone has PTSD, Lily Evans Potter Lives, M/M, Multi, Natasha is a good friend, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Rewrite of HP where Lily lives and escapes to reinvent herself as Darcy Lewis, Scars and tattoos, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Tattoo Artist Sirius Black, Tony Stark Has A Heart, sooooo many more tags, steve rogers is a sweetheart, will update as needed - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-10-21 13:50:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20694596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gypsiangel/pseuds/gypsiangel
Summary: “You can’t have him,” she breathed, and closed her eyes, drawing on every last bit of magic she still possessed, reaching deeper than she ever had before. She felt the killing curse pass through her, and she let go, sending the volley of power back to Riddle with a prayer to whoever may be listening.Or... Lily Evans Potter is a total badass mama and escapes wizarding Britain to reinvent herself as Darcy Lewis.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys!!! I've been out of writing for a while... the flash drive holding all of my writing completely failed, leaving me stranded. I didn't really have the heart to go back and rewrite *everything* I'd put so much time and effort into. So... now that I'm slowly getting over it and delving back into writing again, I got bit by this bug. I seriously hope you guys like it! This is my first foray into writing anything to do with the Avengers, but I really hope I did them justice. Puhleeeeze lmk how you like it. And remember, if you have criticism, please be nice about offering it.

*~*~*

_She could hear the sound of crashing through the downstairs, Jamie’s shout, and the mad cackle of the Dark Lord as he snarled the unforgivable curse. “Avada Kedavra!” There was a strangled noise, and the sound of her husband’s body hitting the ground. Lily choked her grief down; there’d be time enough for that later. She raced for the nursery, Harry’s frantic cries ringing in her head as she slammed the door closed and warded it quickly. She reached for her son, but the door slammed open before she could wrap her arms around him, the wards snapping with a crackle and a shattering of wood. _

_ “You think you can save him? How quaint.” Tom Riddle stood before her, his handsome face pale and twisted. He barely looked human anymore, his eyes holding a cold red glow as he stared her down. “Stand aside, and you shan’t take the road of your lover.”_

_ Lily straightened her shoulders and raised her wand, facing him with the absolute certainty that her chances of surviving were minimal, but knowing she couldn’t just let him have her son. She took a deep breath, calling forward as much of her power and focus as she could, visualizing it as a blue shield. She barely heard the madman’s retort, seeing his lips curl up into a snarl of contempt, then the flash of green light. It hit the shield and crackled, the force of it knocking her back into Harry’s crib. Her son let out a terrified shriek of pain, and her own vision dimmed as pain blossomed down her body._

_ Riddle snarled, taking a step forward before slashing his wand down, the rapid-fire volley of explosive jinxes doing their job and shattering her shield, sending it dancing through the air in visible, sparking pieces. The Dark Lord’s fury was thick in the air, a physical presence as he jerked his arm diagonally through the air, the cutting curse finding its way through her neck and chest. He slashed again, and she screamed, feeling the flesh of her shoulders split down to the bone._

_ Harry was crying for her, his wails getting louder and more frantic, his little legs shaking as he gripped the railing of the crib. Lily stepped in front of him one last time, locking eyes with the man who sought to take everything she held dear. _

_ “You can’t have him,” she breathed, and closed her eyes, drawing on every last bit of magic she still possessed, reaching deeper than she ever had before. She felt the killing curse pass through her, and she let go, sending the volley of power back to Riddle with a prayer to whoever may be listening._

*~*~*

“Long day, love?” Darcy kicked off her shoes and leaned against the door of her New York home, breathing in the soft smells of warmth, fresh spices of cooking food, and the people she loved the most. She smiled over at Sirius as her dark-haired friend peeked around the hallway to greet her. “You look absolutely exhausted.”

Darcy snorted, rolling her eyes as she levered herself away from the door to go toward the kitchen where she hoped there’d be tea and something sweet to nosh on. “Dude, for a multi-billion-dollar company, SI does a shit job of making sure they move delicate equipment properly. I had to hold Jane back from stabbing one guy with a pencil when he dropped Old Betsy in the corner. He made a stupid comment about it being a pile of junk, and she just went for it.”

Sirius laughed and shook his head, leaning down to kiss the top of her head as she poured her tea, which, bless him, he’d had hot and ready for her. “There’s biscuits in the tray. Rem made them this morning. He’s upstairs wrestling with your son, trying to trick him into a bath.”

“We’re back to hating baths again?” Darcy sighed and shook her head, tugging off the knit hat she’d worn over her curls. It had taken some getting used to, but the dark hair had grown on her over the last four years. There wasn’t much left of Lily Evans Potter, the achingly young woman who’d faced down a mad terrorist and somehow managed to live. In the aftermath of that Halloween, her entire life had changed- the only ones who even knew she was still alive were Sirius, Remus, the goblins at Gringotts, and Severus Snape. Poppy Pomfrey had known at one time, but she’d willingly allowed herself to be obliviated to protect the young widow and the child they would have called their savior.

Severus had found her just in time, saving her from bleeding out with a quick counter-curse and a frantic fire-call to Hogwarts and Madame Pomfrey. He knew it was only a matter of time before everyone knew what happened to the Dark Lord, and he wasn’t stupid. By the time Lily had awakened in a darkened area of the school infirmary, Harry asleep in the cot next to her, her old friend had swallowed his pride and contacted the other half of the Marauders, sans the coward turncoat Pettigrew.

Two weeks later, Lily and Harry Potter were laid to rest in Godric’s Hollow next to James, their family plot complete. Darcy and Harrison Lewis had boarded a plane bound for the US, fresh papers forged by the best and most discreet solicitors Gringotts had on staff. All of the Potter wealth was transferred to the MACUSA branch under their new names, and Darcy had begun her journey as a young, single mother trying to figure out her life. She’d never appreciated how powerful the goblin nation actually was until they wrapped her and her son in their protection. They had taken care of everything, including wand permits and magical passports in their new identities.

Darcy Lewis was a middle-class American witch with mediocre talent and minimal magical education. Not worth much of a look, given that she’d completed her education under the tutelage of an aunt after her parents were killed in a no-maj car accident. On the books, she had taken her exams independently and scored middle of the road. Off the books, and if anyone had cared to dig any deeper, she’d taken to no-maj education and worldly pursuits like a lot of her generation. Other than needing access to the wizarding underworld for necessities, she was more or less mundane.

It hadn’t been long after their departure for America that Sirius and Remus joined her and Harry, the two of them doing what they could to cover all the bases to make sure no one questioned the ruse. It had been a near thing with Albus Dumbledore, the old wizard crafty enough to know that he wasn’t completely in the loop, but not pushing for all the answers just yet.

A year of moving from place to place had made sure no one from home could track them if they got the notion, then Darcy and Remus had started with college, while Sirius had stayed at home to take care of little Harry. Their routine settled and more or less happy, the small family grew closer and more comfortable. And then, she’d had the brilliant idea to take an internship with one Dr. Jane Foster and got sucked into the world of alien gods and superheroes.

“Unfortunately, _someone_ allowed him to watch a program on the bloody Titanic. That kid has an imagination that rivals yours,” Sirius huffed. He tossed his long hair back out of his face and waved a butter knife in the air. “He’s convinced he’s going to drown if he’s even three feet from the blasted water.”

Darcy snickered and shook her head. “I’ll go up and see what I can do. You and Rem can take off for the night if you want? I know I haven’t been home a lot, and you guys have taken the brunt of Harry-duty. It’s your turn to go do something away from here.”

“Don’t you have to go back into work tomorrow? Your Jane said something about it taking at least a week to get everything sorted and set up. Somehow, I don’t see her letting just anyone near her shady contraptions.” 

“Hey, I built most of those _shady contraptions_, I’ll have you know!” Darcy tried to sound annoyed but couldn’t quite make it. She snorted. “Okay, so they’re a little shady, but they work! You just have to be nice to them, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. So, what about you going in? Don’t you need us back to babysit the prongslet?”

It used to hurt her to hear Sirius call Harry that, the reminder of James a sick blow. But now it was a comfort, a reminder that her little boy was just as much his father as he was her. The last two Marauders made sure to tell stories about their school days to Harry, funny tidbits about his father’s escapades as well as some of the lessons they’d learned. Darcy tried not to be around when they spoke of her husband. She knew that the boys worried about her, and they’d tried to talk to her about it before, but Darcy had politely and lovingly shut them down. She didn’t know if she’d ever be okay with speaking about James.

“Nah, Stark has a free daycare center set up for his employees. Bulletproof walls and windows and all. I got the walk through today when Jane and I finally got the full tour. It’s one of the perks. It was also in my contract to have an apartment on the upper floors near Jane and the other Avengers, being that my official title was expanded from Jane-Wrangler to Avengers-Wrangler once Pepper Potts witnessed my finesse in de-escalating tantrums, bullying said physicist into eating, and the epic bag of wonders I manage to keep on me at all times. I said thanks but no thanks.”

“You turned down living quarters at Stark Tower?” Sirius’s eyebrows rose up into his hairline. “Why? They have more security than we could ever dream of, Darce.”

“And cameras _everywhere_, Sirius,” she pointed out, dropping the biscuit she’d just picked up to nibble on, appetite fading. “It’s hard enough keeping the glamour up all the time as it is, let alone having to make sure I don’t ever let it drop, even at home. Stark is a nosy bastard, and I think he’s already labeled me as someone with a past. No, I’m good here with you guys. Unless you and Rem want to go somewhere else? I wouldn’t blame you, this isn’t really something you signed up for, with me being gone all the time with Jane, and with Norse gods falling out of the sky and weird superheroes to hide from-.”

“Hey, hey, there, poppet,” Sirius stopped her gently, his hands going to her shoulders. “No, Mama, that’s not what we want. I was just thinking about the extra security. You and Harry wouldn’t be as exposed living in Stark Tower, and if anyone from home decided to come after you, they’d play merry hell getting through all those muscled assassins.”

Darcy leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed, closing her eyes. “I can’t risk anyone finding out that I’m not really who I say I am. And besides, you’d miss us too much.”

Sirius kissed the top of her head, and she slapped his chest when he retorted, “Sure, who else chucks the post before anyone else has a chance to see the headlines? I’d go starkers without someone to obsessively worry about.”

*~*~*


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, you guys are amazing! Thank you for all the positive feedback on this! I've been having a rotten morning, and you've really brightened my life. As thank you, I've got the second chapter ready to go. I hope I don't disappoint as we go forward. <3

*~*~*

It was nearing six in the morning when Darcy arrived back at the tower, carrying a groggy, half-asleep Harry against her shoulder. He was still very small for his age, thin and wiry but healthy. They tried to feed him up every chance they got, but he just didn’t seem to want to grow. Darcy had a suspicion at the back of her head that the curse Riddle had hit them with had stunted her son’s growth, but there wasn’t much she could really do about it just yet. The muggle pediatricians said that he was behind his age group, but it wasn’t anything to worry about. He’d catch up. Being petite herself, she wasn’t going to allow herself to obsess over it just yet. Maybe he just took after her more than his father.

Thanking the stars for automatic doors, she slipped into the lobby and toward the employee’s elevator. Biting back a curse, she juggled her bag, trying to maneuver it forward to get her badge out of the front pocket where she’d forgotten to take it out _before_ loading herself up with a cranky kid and all the rest of the crap she didn’t want to make two trips for. Just as she was about to move toward the sitting area to unload something and try to fish her badge out, the doors opened, and she was faced with Steve Rogers in all his pre-workout glory. They stared at each other for a long moment, and Darcy forced a smile.

“Hey, there, big guy,” she said, stepping into the elevator as if it was an everyday occurrence to stand so close to a freaking American icon. “Any chance you could do me a favor before bolting off into the neverlands of the city? Could you fish my badge out of the front pocket there? The kiddo is mean when you wake him up before daylight, and I’d rather not poke him too much.”

For a second, she thought he was just going to stare at her, but he seemed to shake himself out of it with a charmingly sheepish smile and a light dusting of color across his cheeks. Darcy found herself grinning at him, for real this time, as he gamely came forward to help her.

“Thanks,” she said softly, and tried not to notice how warm his fingers were when they brushed hers over the employee badge. “The last thing we all need is for this little heathen to wake up before he thinks he’s ready. There’s not enough tea in England to ready us for that noise.”

“My pleasure,” Steve said, equally soft. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked over the complicated mess of bags and kid she was hauling. “Do you need any help getting upstairs? I assume you’re Dr. Foster’s assistant and our new babysitter?”

Darcy’s first impulse was to tell him no, but she hesitated. It would be a help to have an escort on the first day trying to maneuver the steps of daycare and getting Harry settled. Besides, it was a good way to make her first real friendly connection with the team she was supposed to work with.

“You know, I think I’ll take you up on that,” she said after a long moment. “If you’re not in too much of a hurry to get your workout on.”

“Nah, I’ve got plenty of time. I usually try to go early enough to beat the crowds, and the path doesn’t get too bad until after eight.”

“There was a point in time when I thought about running, then I remembered that my ass hurt more than my legs the last time I tried it. It was weird enough to make me stop,” Darcy commented wryly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that problem with running before,” he laughed, taking the large messenger bag she’d draped over one shoulder, and the smaller backpack she’d grabbed for the things her son would need for the day at daycare.

“I’ve got a big ass,” Darcy said plainly, only half joking as she punched the number for the twentieth floor, three floors down from the labs. She didn’t really like having Harry so far away from her while she was working, but she knew he was safe enough, and if there was trouble, she’d charmed his trainers to act as a beacon for her to follow. They’d gone over what to do if there was an emergency, if someone he didn’t know came to get him without her or his uncles. He was a super smart kid and knew all about stranger-danger and making sure he looked for all the red flags that would pop up if someone wasn’t being honest.

“I don’t know,” Steve drawled teasingly, but his blush deepened as he tried to be nonchalant in his glance at the soft curve of her backside in the faded jeans she’d donned for the day. Darcy felt a rush of affection for the awkwardness that she hadn’t quite expected from him. “It doesn’t look all that big to me.”

She winked at him, shaking her head as the elevator doors slid open. “You know, we’re gonna get along, you and I.”

The tall brunette manning the daycare station was young and almost too chirpy for the early morning hour. Her name was Sophie, and she was professional enough not to reach for Harry immediately. Darcy appreciated it, and her evaluation of the entire operation went up a few notches.

“You must be Mrs. Lewis,” Sophie greeted her softly as she ushered them inside the large play area.

“Ms.,” Darcy corrected, rubbing her cheek against the soft mess of her son’s hair. “There’s no mister. And this is Harry. I’m sure you have all his information, but he just turned five, and it’d be to everyone’s benefit if he sleeps a bit longer. I’m working three floors up, with Dr. Foster, and you can reach me through the lab or Mr. Stark. They’ll know how to get ahold of me.”

Steve shifted a little uncomfortably behind her, and she realized that he’d actually followed them inside instead of just dropping the bags and hightailing it out. Sophie showed her to the napping area that was outfitted for sleepovers, freshly made beds and all. Harry made a small noise when she went to lay him down, his tiny arms tightening around her to keep them close.

“Mama?”

“Shh, little man. It’s okay,” Darcy soothed quietly. “You’re gonna be staying with Sophie while I go to work, yeah? I’ll be down for lunch and we can go up and see Auntie Jane.”

“’Kay,” Harry mumbled and allowed his mother to nestle him into the blanket. “No s’plosions.”

Darcy laughed and kissed his forehead, smoothing back his dark hair gently. “I’ll try, little man, but no promises.”

“Mama, Moony said no s’plosions, or he won’t make any more ch’lat.”

“Well, I’ll have to take that up with him, won’t I? Go back to sleep, love. Mama’ll see you later.”

“’Kay.” And just like that, he was asleep again, and Darcy felt for a moment like she wanted to cry. This was the first time since they’d escaped out of the UK that he’d been left with someone other than his uncles. She felt a pang of longing for her husband so sharp it was physical. James always did know how to calm her fears, whether it was through ill timed humor, or just a soft touch when she needed it the most.

Pressing one last kiss to Harry’s cheek, she straightened and turned to the Captain, trying for a smile that seemed embarrassingly wobbly. His eyes were soft and understanding, and his gentle smile didn’t make things any better. Darcy never was okay with kindness when she as feeling off, and now wasn’t any different. After a few more words with the daycare attendant, stowing Harry’s backpack in his new cubby, Darcy took her bag from Steve and led the way back out, wiping at her eyes.

“Dude, sorry about that,” she said quietly, sniffling a little as she tried to reign in her emotions. “It’s just hard to leave the tadpole behind. This is his first time in daycare, and I’m being dumb.”

“I don’t think that’s dumb at all,” Steve commented, and took her bag back, slinging it over his broad shoulder as he tapped the button for the labs. “I’ve still got time, I can walk you up.”

“I look that much of a mess?” Darcy huffed, trying to find it in her to laugh. The stress of the last few days was catching up to her, and she felt like she was going to freak out at any moment. All she wanted was to lock herself in a quiet area for a few minutes to get herself back together. Who knew, after all this time, that she'd have separation anxiety. Leaving Harry with Sirius or Remus was far different than leaving him with strangers, vetted or not.

“Nah,” the super soldier said, and nudged her arm with his elbow. “You just look like you need a friend.”

“Oh, don’t be nice to me,” she whined, digging in the pocket of the bag he was holding for a tissue. Her eyes were blurry with tears as she carefully didn’t look at him. She took off the muggle glasses she’d donned as part of the Darcy Lewis costume pack. They’d become a part of her persona over the years, the lenses non-prescription, and the frames a varying form of fashion, but always bold and a bit too large. Harry had her green eyes, but she’d charmed her own irises to a dark blue, telling people that her little one had his father’s eyes when they asked. Harry was the unknown element, so when strangers saw him, he just looked like a generic little boy. The scar Riddle had left on his forehead was easily covered, even if he always kinda looked like he needed a haircut. Good thing longer hair was a popular style now.

The woman who used to be Lily Evans Potter was a different story altogether. A green-eyed redhead with distinctive freckles and a thick Londoner accent wasn’t so easy to blend. It had taken forever to take on the American way of speech, and she’d continually slipped up until Sirius had come to the rescue with a potion that his old auror mentor, Moody, had come up with. They had a small potions lab in the basement of their brownstone, and between the three of them and occasional help from Severus, had a good store of what they needed. She kept her dialect changer in a blue dropper bottle in the tea cupboard, labeled ‘A-Darcy’.

She could have kicked Sirius right in the balls when she realized that he’d keyed the potion to a snarky modern college kid with an attitude problem. He’d laughed at her irritation, reeling her in with a gentle headlock and a messy kiss to the top of her head. “How far off the mark am I, Red?”

She did miss her red hair, and even the freckles sometimes. But the dark hair provided by muggle hair dye made her feel more connected to Harry, so it wasn’t too much of a downer. Her incredibly fair skin hadn’t changed, and she still wished there’d been a way to at least be able to go outside in the sunlight for longer than ten minutes without burning.

“I could be mean, but that’s not really in my nature,” Steve was saying, and Darcy rolled her eyes a little. She blotted at the eyeliner that was probably smudging under her eyes. She’d had to learn how to wear makeup too, watching tutorials and actually attending a random makeup party. No, there was very little left of Lily Evans in this life she’d built, even if she missed the girl she was before the nightmare began.

“I don’t look like a rabid raccoon, do I,” she asked, raising her face to look at him wryly. “This eyeliner’s awesome, but it runs in the face of crybaby days.”

She froze when he reached a large hand toward her face and gently swiped at the edge of her lower eyelid with his thumb.

“You look fresh as a daisy.” Was she imagining it, or was his voice a bit softer than before? Warmer? Her face flamed, and she blinked at him before shoving her glasses back on her face and lowering her head again.

She cleared her throat and nervously eyed the elevator door. Merlin, this was bad. Whatever happened to not drawing any attention? She’d argued with Sirius about this very thing. Gods, why hadn’t she listened?

“Thanks,” she sighed after a long moment pressing her hand to her chest, which felt tight all of a sudden. “Sorry, this has been a weird series of days.”

The elevator doors opened, and Darcy took the opportunity to step away from the tall, almost too reassuring presence of the superhero. He followed her, carefully not crowding her and measuring his strides to match her much shorter ones. She was trying very hard not to be taken in by the man and his impeccable manners. _Tartarus on ice_, he was a charmer, and it had been a very long time since she’d allowed herself to be charmed. What was wrong with her?

She swiped her key card and entered the lab, hearing Jane already muttering and clanking on something in the corner. Dropping everything onto the desk she’d taken over as hers, Darcy turned to Steve and reached out for her bag.

“Thanks,” she repeated lamely, not really knowing what else to say. She went forward with her usual babble. “Are you gonna be around at lunchtime? I’ve got an idea to make a pasta bake for the scientists later, and according to Ms. Potts, I’m in charge of feeding team Avenger too, if you’re around. For your help, you get to pick the dessert.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said, and Darcy didn’t know if it was her imagination playing tricks again, or his tone had a note of promise to it. When he hesitated, she gestured expectantly. “You’re gonna laugh, but my favorite is apple pie anything.”

Darcy’s eyes crinkled, and she did laugh, “Oh, no, I’m sure you’ve heard aaaaall the puns about ‘American as apple pie’ and all that jazz. I _do_ make epic apple turnovers, so we’ll see what I can rustle up. I’ll have J give ya’ll a buzz when it’s time to gather. It’s just safer that way, cause if I give these science nerds a warning, they’ll hole up and no one will eat.”

“Can’t wait.” With another strange pause, he gave a little wave and retreated out of the lab, finally making his way down to the streets to go on his morning run.

Darcy collapsed into her chair and removed her glasses again, rubbing at the tingling in her forehead.

_ Hell._

*~*~*

The next time Steve saw their new intern-turned-assistant-turned-all around caretaker, she was instructing a tiny dark-haired boy how to press pieces of dough into flat circles. It was nearing eleven thirty, and he’d just finished meeting with Natasha, Clint, and Bucky on the mission they were set to leave for in the morning. It was only the second time Bucky was joining them in the field, and even though it was supposed to be a cut and dried, in and out kind of thing, they’d all wanted to go over the specs one more time.

Bucky was getting better at being around other people, even though he kept mostly silent unless he absolutely had to speak up, or he was alone with Steve. It had taken nearly a year to get this far, but every day a little more of his old friend was coming back out. They talked about the old days a lot, at first it was only Steve talking to a silently attentive Bucky, trying to tease more of the former assassin’s memories back. Then, his friend had responded with quiet memories of his own.

The nightmares were still bad, for both of them, but with time, their friendship had tightened back to their old closeness, and it wasn’t odd for one of them to wake up with the other wrapped around them in a warm line of comfort. Today, Bucky hadn’t retreated back to their apartment after the business with the other Avengers had concluded like usual, instead he’d silently accompanied Steve back toward the communal space where the team took their meals and had social downtime.

The kitchen was large and fully stocked with their food choices and everything imaginable to cook and bake with, though Bruce and Clint had been the only ones to make use of it so far. At least until now.

Darcy glanced over her shoulder as they made their way in, boots heavy on the tiled floor. Her smile went a little stiff, but to her credit, she didn’t freeze or go awkward at the sight of them. Instead, she nudged the little boy at her side, and said, “Okay, little man. What was it we needed to sprinkle on these again?”

“Cin’mon,” the boy chirped happily, looking up at her with a flour streaked face. “But Siri doesn’t like cin’mon, Mama.”

“Well, Siri isn’t gonna be eating these, so we’re good,” she told him. She held out a shaker of reddish-brown powder and demonstrated. “Now, here’s the cinnamon, bud. Just a little, like this.”

The look of concentration on the boy’s face was adorable, and Steve found his shoulders relaxing just a bit as he and Bucky continued into the common space. The large, open room smelled amazing, like Italian spices and apples. He liked the look of the mother and son working together in the kitchen, and it was more than just the reminder of his own home before his mother died.

“Apple turnovers?” Steve asked before he could dwell too much on what that more might be, and the boy turned his face to look over at them, green eyes bright under a fringe of messy brown hair. He looked a bit like his mother, with her hair, skin tone, and the shape of his eyes, but that was where the resemblance ended. Then he grinned, showing off dimples in his soft cheeks, and there was more of Darcy in him.

“Yup! Mama said we were making them for dessert b’cause they were sm’body’s favorite. Un’cle Siri hates cin’mon, and Moony doesn’t like apples, so we make them when they’re gone. I like ‘em lots. Who’re you?”

“My name’s Steve. And you must be?”

“Harry,” the little boy introduced himself. He turned his attention back to his task, still talking as he sprinkled cinnamon. “My full name’s Harrison James, but I like just Harry.” He turned expectant eyes toward Bucky, who looked a little at a loss as to how to respond. His face was carefully blank, but he was looking over the pair intently as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing or how he felt about it.

“This is my friend, Bucky,” Steve answered for him when he turned wide eyes over in a moment of indecision. “He likes apples and cinnamon too.”

“My Mama’s name is Darcy,” Harry supplied helpfully. “She’s the best, even Auntie Jane says so, and Auntie Jane doesn’t like people.”

“Is that so,” Steve asked, amused, and moved to take a seat in one of the barstools lining the outer counter of the kitchen. Bucky followed him with a glace at Darcy, who was watching her son with amusement. She didn’t look nervous or scared at having the Winter Soldier so close to her offspring, and he wondered if she even knew who he was. She and Dr. Foster hadn’t been there for very long, maybe a week, if that.

“Yup.” Harry wrinkled his nose down at the pieces of dough. “Are we ready for apples?”

“We are, kiddo. Okay, now, what was the rule about filling?”

“Not too much.”

“About this much,” Darcy instructed, taking a spoon and filling it with the apple mixture before handing it to Harry. “You got it?”

At his careful nod, Darcy kissed his head again and reached to fill a couple of her own, tiny, nimble fingers folding and pinching the dough to make little parcels. Bucky was watching her hands, fascinated. They were unadorned with any kind of jewelry, pale and delicate with a bright blue nail polish that seemed right at home with the rest of her.

“You guys got anything big planned,” she asked curiously, glancing up at the two men, and Bucky found himself staring at her blue eyes, which seemed somehow out of place. For a moment, he saw a speckle of green, but it was gone so fast he couldn’t tell if he was just imagining things.

Steve leaned back in his chair, comfortable in his skin in a way that Bucky was still trying to get used to. This version of the boy he grew up with was so different in some ways, and yet so very much the same. He wondered if there’d ever be a time where he’d be more like his old self, like James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, the Brooklyn heartbreaker that had gone to war an idealist and never came back.

“Headed out tomorrow on a mission,” Steve was telling her, careful not to spill any of the details. “We have tonight to relax and get our heads straight. You? What are your ‘science nerds’ up to? No explosions yet?”

Harry narrowed his eyes up at his mother and said in as stern as a tone as he could muster, “Mama. Moony said no more s'plosions, or he won’t make any more ch’late.”

Darcy snorted a laugh and eyed him over the edges of her glasses. “Do you really think Moony would forsake his blessed chocolate? C’mon, kid, the world would end first.”

“But, Mama,” Harry huffed, and he forgot about filling the pies. “S'plosions are bad! They’re loud, and you smell funny when Auntie Jane blows you up.”

Steve let out a loud bark of laughter and even Bucky couldn’t help the amused smile at the exasperated look on the young woman’s face. After a moment, she joined them in their laughter and scooped the little boy up for a hug and a smacking kiss on his cheek. “Okay, Safety Man, thank you for your help, but I’ve gotta get these baking or else Captain America won’t have his apple pies for dessert. How ‘bout you go wash your hands in the bathroom and have Jarvis put on some cartoons? We’ll have lunch in about an hour, then you’ve gotta go back downstairs with Sophie.”

“Okay, Mama.” Harry jumped down off the step he’d been standing on, disappearing from sight before darting off to the bathroom to the side of the common room. They could hear the scrape of another step being pulled from somewhere so Harry could reach the sink himself.

“Ms. Potts made sure the place was kid proof when I told her I’d have Harry here with me sometimes,” Darcy explained, moving through the dough with an impressive speed, placing the finished products on a flat baking sheet. “It’s kinda cool to have a place that’s relatively safe to have a mini-me running amuck. He’s usually with his uncles, though, but I felt like a terrible mother for disappearing on them randomly over the last six months following Jane’s crazy.”

“Harry doesn’t seem to be too upset with it,” Steve noted as a pint-sized streak ran past them and in where the over-large television was set up. Jarvis had heard Darcy’s comment, and already loaded up a channel of Scooby-Doo cartoons. 

“Nah, he’s an easy-going tadpole, I’m the one with the guilt complex. Hey, you guys want some coffee or tea? I’m dying for a cup.”

“Coffee sounds good, doll,” Steve said, glancing over at Bucky, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the young woman in the kitchen. He nudged his friend gently and waited until there was a flash of gray eyes to raise his eyebrows at him.

“Coffee, thanks,” Bucky said quietly, but it was more than Steve was expecting, so it was a minor win. Darcy slid two of the oversized baking trays into the oven and went to pour coffee and hot water, bringing the steaming mugs over to set in front of them. One was an oversized blue and red mug with a Captain America shield on the front, which she set in front of Bucky, and the other was a black mug with a huge orange jack’o lantern. Her own mug was a purple monstrosity with a green Welsh dragon curling up around the side.

“Sugar, cream?” When they both shook their heads, she turned back to doctoring her own with a good dose of sugar and a dollop of heavy cream. She breathed in the steam and sighed before setting it aside to give it time to steep. “Good tea is hard to come by, but thankfully I’ve got connections.”

She lowered her voice and leaned in conspiratorially, looking from one face to another, “If you promise not to tell anyone, my stash is in the bottom drawer, far left side of the pantry. I found out early that tall people miss almost all the low hiding spots. It’s a thing. I like you guys, so I’ll share if you ever need a good spot of tea.”

For the next hour, the two super soldiers were drawn into an interesting conversation about the most unusual hiding spots they’d encountered over the years. Or, at least Steve and Darcy participated, Bucky just listened and tried not to be too creepy with his staring. The young woman was fascinating with her faded and fashionably torn jeans that hugged her shapely backside and hips. She’d discarded the jacket in the warmth of the kitchen, and her long-sleeved t-shirt was pushed up to her elbows. His eyes were drawn to the colorful ink that covered her right forearm, disappearing into her sleeve. He knew that women in this modern time had tattoos, but this was the first time he’d seen it with his own eyes. Most operatives didn’t have distinguishing marks, at least not the women, and not so obvious.

The kitchen timer had gone off, and she went to gather the casserole from the top of the dual oven, calling out, “Hey, Jarvis, can you put the word out that the food’s done? Give them a fifteen minute warning to get to a stopping point before cutting power to the labs, and tell Jane that she won’t get any pop tarts for a week if she doesn’t come up, and I know where she keeps her stash of cocoa puffs.”

“Yes, Ms. Lewis.”

“Call me Darcy, J, please? Ms. Lewis is just weird.”

“Mama! What was that? Was that Uncle Sev? Why is he in the ceiling? Did he bring me-,” Harry made his presence known again, shouting questions as he raced back into the kitchen and slammed into his mother’s legs, nearly taking her down.

“Woah! Harry James! Slow your roll, kid!” Darcy took a breath and scooped him up. “Whew, you almost upended me, child. No, that’s not Sev, and we talked about this. We’re not having any pets that are big or mean enough to eat you, okay? Geeze.”

Harry pouted a little, but his curiosity got the better of him and he persisted, “Who’s in the ceiling, then?”

“That, my dear… kid? What’s a kid doing in my common room?” Tony Stark made his appearance a good half hour before Darcy had actually anticipated. She looked over Harry’s head at the billionaire genius, a little at a loss for words. She hadn’t really expected any of the scientists to actually _listen_ for the call for food, thinking that she’d have to work for it the first few times to make a point that she wasn’t joking about getting their nutritional needs met on a consistent basis. “Jarvis, is there something I’m missing, ‘cause I don’t remember anyone contacting me for a DNA test lately, and kids aren’t really a normal thing?”

“No, sir,” JARVIS spoke up, “This is Ms. Darcy’s child. Ms. Potts cleared him for access while his mother is here.”

“What he said,” Darcy seconded, her voice a few degrees cooler. Bucky shifted in his seat, tension snapping into him as his new ‘teammates’ trickled in. “I don’t have a thing for men old enough to be my father, Stark, but thanks.”

She turned her back on Tony and stage-whispered to Harry, “Go and get a spot at a table, little man. I’ll bring you a plate here in a minute, yeah?”

“No offense meant,” Tony said, raising his hands before sauntering into the kitchen where Darcy finished laying out the food buffet style. “Just not every day there’s a munchkin allowed in Avenger Tower. If Pepper said it was cool, it’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said shortly, taking a plate and dishing out a portion of the casserole and placing a couple of the turnovers to the side. “Soup’s on, either way. Everybody, eat up! I’m gonna do something like this around the same time every day, so you guys can at least have one healthy meal a day. I figured that mid-day would be best, cause gods-know when you all slow down in the later hours. Suggestions for meals are always welcome, within reason, and help with meal prep and clean up gets you choice of dessert.”

With that, she flashed them a smile and went to join her son, who was engrossed in the cartoons again, his sneakered feet kicking in the air. Steve hesitated when Bucky took one look around at the now crowded area and silently left. He glanced over at Darcy, who was quietly chatting with Harry, and grinning up at Dr. Foster when the other woman joined them at the table. Natasha caught his eye and gave him a raised eyebrow, and he couldn’t stop the blush that rushed to his face. Damnit. Ignoring his redheaded teammate’s knowing smile, he filled his plate and went to join the women at their table.

Later, when Steve rejoined Bucky in their apartments, he handed his friend a covered plate that Darcy had put together for him when she noticed the second soldier wasn’t there. She’d also packed up a container of the turnovers, with a smiley-face post-it on the top.

*~*~*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! You guys are seriously amazing, thank you for all the comments and kudos! Holy Hera, I wasn't expecting such an awesome response. I really, really hope that I don't disappoint you as we go. <3 That said, this chapter is full of Darcy-angst, but lots of sweet support from our tower friends. It deals with PTSD and disassociation. I'll definitely have more quiet one on one with the characters as we go, but when I tried to put a smaller scene in here now, it just didn't seem right. Again, I love you all, and THANK YOU for all the support!

*~*~* 

_ “You think you can save him? How quaint.” Tom Riddle stood before her, his handsome face pale and twisted. He barely looked human anymore, his eyes holding a cold red glow as he stared her down. “Stand aside, and you shan’t take the road of your lover.”_

Darcy woke up in a blind panic, sweat cold on her shoulders and spine. Shuddering, she shoved at her blankets until they were untangled from her legs, and scooted up until her back met the wall, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them tight. Her breath was uneven, and she felt sick, her entire body throbbing with remembered pain. _Merlin, Jamie!_ A painful sob broke free from her chest and she nearly choked on it, burying her face in her knees. She missed him like nothing else in the world, as if a part of her had been carved away and placed just out of reach.

The sudden and urgent need to check up on Harry made her bolt off the bed and rush into the hallway and around the corner into the room next door, skidding to a halt on the hardwood when she saw that her little boy was sleeping soundly in his toddler bed, bundled up in his Iron Man jammies and his blankets. She approached slower, swallowing hard against the urge to snatch him up and hide somewhere small and safe. When she reached his bedside, she gently lowered herself to the floor, reaching out a wildly trembling hand to smooth his hair back, just using the tips of her fingers because she didn’t want to wake him.

He huffed a little in his sleep, turning his face into her touch, instinctively knowing it was her. Darcy gripped a piece of his blanket and rested her head on one of her folded arms, keeping watch until she eventually drifted back off to sleep.

*~*~*

“What, no rugrat to tug at the apron strings today?”

Darcy’s jaw clenched at the sound of Tony Stark’s voice interrupting the peaceful quiet of the communal kitchen. She’d hoped to get a head start on everything and get the word out for lunch, then disappear back into the lab area where she had a desk full of notes to decipher and emails to sort through. Today just wasn’t the right kind of day for socializing. Her skin felt too tight and there was a low-grade hum of anxiety that made her entirely too jumpy to act even reasonably normal.

“He’s at home with his uncles. I don’t have to bring him in every day, so I don’t.” She left it at that, not looking over toward the genius, instead focusing on slicing strawberries for the simple fruit and nut salad she knew Natasha preferred over classic desserts. The other woman had made a point to seek her out when not out on missions, becoming more open and friendly while not so subtly easing out more information on their new addition. Darcy hadn’t called her out on it, knowing that Natasha knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t worried about accidentally spilling random secrets; the charade was too much ingrained into who and what Darcy was outside of home now. Besides, she’d purposely kept as close to the truth in their backstory as she could, so it would just be easier.

For the most part, Darcy got along with most, if not all of the Avengers and the staff in the tower. The normie SHIELD agents were kinda off, and Fury was someone she really didn’t care to be around for too long, but the rest had been pretty cool. In the three months she’d been there, Steve had become as close a friend as she could claim outside of Jane, and Bucky had morphed from a silent shadow to a comforting presence that was slowly opening up to more of a real connection. They'd even shared a few quiet early morning conversations when neither of them could sleep and it seemed the better part of valor just to get their day started already. 

It wasn’t odd for them to have cinema nights in the common room when the team had down time, usually watching movies that the two super soldiers had missed during their time under ice. Sometimes Darcy had Harry join them, and the little boy had become something of a mascot for the Avengers team, getting closer to all of them with his sweet-natured and sassy charm. The last night together, he’d attached himself to Natasha, much to the former assassin’s delight. The redhead was enamored with the little boy and had begun teaching him small maneuvers that weren’t necessarily age appropriate, but Darcy trusted her to keep him safe.

The one exception to that easy comfort level was Tony Stark himself. There was just something about him that rubbed her wrong, and it wasn’t so much the initial greeting at their first meeting, though that had been irritating enough. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it, and as she scraped the strawberries off the cutting board and into the giant bowl and reached for the pineapple, she tried to figure it out. Once she pieced it together, she could get the fuck over it so they could all get on with their lives. He was technically her boss, and she had no choice but to interact with him on the daily, so it was just stupid…

“C’mon, Lewis, you can do better than that.” Her hand slipped on the knife, slicing directly into the meat between her thumb and index finger. The pain was sharp and instant, but she felt like her breath was completely gone from her lungs. It was in the way he said those words. She was brought right back to sixth year in the Gryffindor common room. She felt her insides go to ice, and grief hit her like a pile of bricks.

_“C’mon, Evans, you can do better than that! Even Peter can do it, and you’re five times better than he is at charms!”_

_James. Oh, oh, Jamie._ She jerked away from the hands that grasped her arms and tried to turn her so they could look at her hand. She blinked hard against tears and tried to shove away the image of her James the last time she’d seen him alive, laughing at her over the mess of scorched curry he’d tried to heat up with magic. His dark eyes danced behind his glasses as she scolded him, then he lunged for her, scooping her up in his arms to blow raspberry kisses on her neck, making her shriek with laughter.

_Dark bruises around closed eyes, flesh a purple-blue, lips open in a horrible, silent scream. God, why did they let her see him? Where were his glasses? The bloody idiot refused to get his eyes fixed, despite the advances in magical optometry, so he needed them. His hands were stuck into fists, one arm flung out as if he was reaching for her, the other gripping his chest. God, oh, God. Jamie._

“Darcy! Darcy, honey, it’s okay, you’re safe.” The voice sounded like it was coming from far away, immediately unfamiliar, but breaking through the haze of memory and panic. Someone was making a strange, gasping noise, a whimpering at the back of their throat. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. You’re okay, I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

She jerked, blinking rapidly around at her, seeing Steve’s concerned face a few inches away from hers, finally feeling the weight of his hands on her upper arms, keeping her upright. Her face flamed, and she tried to pull away from him again, but he kept her still.

“Steve?” She cleared her throat and looked down, seeing the blood dripping from her hand onto the floor. It was all over the counter, over his formerly clean gray t-shirt, and all down the purple and green apron she’d put on to start meal prep. “Oh, God! I’m sorry! Oh, shit! Shit! Damnit.”

Darcy sucked in a breath and would have rushed away if fucking Steve hadn’t been keeping her from running. “You’ve gotta let me go, Cap, I have to go clean this up. I’ve got… oh, fuck…”

“Shh,” Steve shushed her, “Stay still, sweetheart. It’s okay. Nat’s gone to get the med kit. It’s okay. You cut yourself, it’s no big deal.”

But she could see in his eyes that it _was_ a big deal. She’d checked out there for a few minutes, and Morgana only knew what she’d said or done. “I- I don’t do well with blood,” she lied faintly, and knew that he didn’t quite believe her, but he guided her to the sink, hovering close just in case. She let him turn the water on low and cool, his own hand huge around hers as he tenderly rinsed the blood off.

Her jaw ticked with the sting and the throb, and he made another soothing sound, “You’re doing good, honey. We’ve just gotta get it clean so Nat can get a look at it.”

He was talking to her like she was a child, and a part of Darcy wanted to snap at him and call him on it, but another part of her that was raw and aching wanted to curl up in it and just stay there for a while. She kept silent, watching their hands under the water for a few minutes, then glanced up at the sound of low voices talking off to the side of the common area. Tony was talking with Pepper, his own face a bit pale and his arms crossed over his chest. He glanced over at her and smiled, but instead of being reassuring, it caused her stomach to roll. There was none of his usual borderline mockery in it, nor was it his usual self-assured smirk she was used to seeing on his face.

Pepper caught him looking in her direction and followed his gaze, giving her a warm look that mirrored Tony’s. Oh, _Merlin_. No. This was exactly what she _hadn’t_ wanted. Pepper gave Tony one last unreadable glance, then crossed to take a seat at the counter, leaning on it to watch Steve pull Darcy’s hand out of the water and wrap it in a clean wet towel while they waited for Natasha to return. She was taking an awful long time to go get a med kit, and Darcy had a terrible feeling that the other woman was going for Dr. Banner instead of a kit. It was just a goddamn cut, it didn’t really need that much fuss.

“Hey, kid, I didn’t mean to startle you that bad.” Tony was looking her over with those incredibly dark eyes that always seemed to see way more than they should. She kept her face carefully blank as she stared back at him, trying to figure out what his game was. They both knew he hadn’t startled her. Darcy blinked slowly over at Steve when he said something that she didn’t catch. She was starting to fade out a little bit, to retreat back into silence and disassociating from the situation. Being aware of it didn’t mean shit once it started, and she felt the welling of tears behind her eyelids.

“I need to go home,” she murmured, trying to tug out of her friend’s grip again. “I- Siri’s okay with first aid, he can patch me up. I don’t feel so good, Cap. Blood weirds me out pretty bad.”

“Hey, Darce,” Nat’s hand was cool on her wrist. Darcy hadn’t noticed her come back in, and it threw her for a second. “I went ahead and got Bruce from his hole upstairs. He has everything he needs to check you out, then our soldiers here can take you home, okay?”

Frustration welled, and again Darcy shoved it back. The sooner she let them take care of her, the sooner she could get away. “Okay,” she agreed dully, and this time she totally missed the exchange of worried looks between Steve and Bucky, who she had yet to realize was even there. Steve guided her to sit at one of the tables, where she closed her eyes and didn’t look at anyone while the gentle giant doctor looked at her hand.

When she came back to herself, she was standing, and there was a white bandage wrapped around her palm and between her thumb and forefinger. “… no stitches, but you need to keep it clean and dry. Do you have antiseptic and bandages at home?”

Darcy nodded. She tugged her sleeves back down over her palms, glad that they hadn’t taken her sweater off. There wasn’t anything to be done about them seeing her forearms, and even with her distracted fog, the notice-me-not should have held. All they’d see was a very nice and bright flower garden sleeve tattoo.

“C’mon, doll,” Steve said, and she wondered dimly how many times he’d called her that. And when had he stopped calling her Darcy? It was always some form of endearment, something that she knew he didn’t bring out on all women. He was very proper in a lot of regards, sometimes too proper for her own comfort level. Had they really become so close that he saw her as someone… something more? Her head hurt, and she really felt like she was going to be sick. The last few sleepless nights had really taken their toll, and the upheaval of the afternoon hadn’t helped.

Jolting when Bucky took his spot beside her, his metal hand resting briefly on her waist, Darcy sent a wide-eyed look up at him. “Bucky? Where did you come from? Oh, gods- what?”

“I picked up your things from your lab, babe.” Darcy felt like she was in an alternate dimension when Clint of all people handed her messenger bag over, with all the stuff she usually carted home with her. Jane was sleeping off a science bender in her rooms, so there wouldn’t have been anyone else there to question him. She didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t good. Hawkeye wasn’t a jerk to her, but she couldn’t really have said they were necessarily _friends_ just yet. He came back with some good snark when they hung out in the same space at the same time, and she figured they would someday _be_ friends. But this… what the bloody hell happened while she was checked out? Did _everyone_ see it, or was she just paranoid?

Something must have shown on her face, because Clint rolled his eyes and took her bag back from her hand and shoved it at Steve. “Go home and get some rest, Lewis, you look like shit.” He gave Steve a narrow-eyed glare. “And tell those men she lives with that she’s not to come back for at least two days.”

“Dude, you can’t tell me what to do,” Darcy argued, anger burning through some of the haze. “You’re not my boss, so you don’t have any-.”

“Tony said, and so will Jane when I tell on you.”

“Listen, Hawk-” Darcy started, but was interrupted by Bucky, who, in an uncharacteristic move pulled her closer into his side.

“C’mon, darlin',” he said, and she was reminded that he and Steve had grown up in the very same neighborhood, in the very same point in time. They had a lot of the same mannerisms and speech patterns sometimes when the dark-haired former soldier was relaxed or bold enough to interact. “You’re still shiver’n. Let’s get you home.”

Jabbing a finger at Clint, she warned, “This isn’t over, archer-boy. Remember, snitches get stitches. Jane’s a pain in the ass when she goes all weird-worried.”

*~*~*

By the time they were nearly to the lobby, Darcy was feeling a bit better, though her stomach still felt nauseous. Maybe she shouldn’t have skipped breakfast. When she was super tired, there wasn’t much to her appetite, so the last few days had been sketchy on the eating too. Sirius was going to have her ass when he realized she’d been skipping meals and not telling him about her nightmares returning, and Remus was going to do his aggressive mother-henning that might just send her over the edge completely.

Lupin was the master at pissing her off and using his boyish charm to keep her from ripping his throat out all at the same time. He always had been, and she knew that he knew about her soft spot for his hidden boyish nature. She really didn’t think it was a good idea for Steve and Bucky to meet her boys just yet. All of them seemed to be overprotective, and Darcy didn’t want any of them getting the wrong idea. Sirius and Remus would no doubt go all ‘shovel-talk, kill you in your sleep if you hurt our sister’, and Steve and Bucky… she didn’t know what she was worried they’d think about the two men who co-habitated in her home and co-parented her son. More than that, she didn’t know _why_ it was important for them not to get the wrong idea.

Her head hurt.

“I can go from here, guys,” Darcy tried when they got to the lobby, her shoulders hunched, and her hand cradled against her waist. It was throbbing now that the adrenaline was wearing off, and she was starting to come out of whatever PTSD nightmare haze had taken over. She was so tired and too close to tears. It was time to call it quits before she really fucked up. She liked the life she’d built here in New York, with Jane and the Avengers. It hadn’t been that long, but Harry was at the age where he really needed some stability. They were all taking a hand in homeschooling him, and even though he was still a little guy, he was picking up super quick on everything they started. He loved his Auntie Jane, and when he was at the tower with her, he loved all the attention he got. Steve was his absolute favorite person in the world, aside from his uncles, of course. Her son would be heartbroken if they had to leave because his mother couldn’t keep herself in check.

_She_ would be heartbroken if they had to run again because she couldn’t keep herself in check. All it would take is a few pointed questions in the right areas, and all her careful planning would be for nothing. Just because Voldemort was dead didn’t mean he would stay that way, and it definitely didn’t mean his Death Eaters were inactive. All it would take…

“Darcy? Honey, did you hear me,” Steve asked, and Darcy realized she’d zoned out again, all three of them standing outside the Tower now, the crisp late September air cool on her overheated cheeks.

She blinked up at him, frowning, then rubbed tiredly at her eyes. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I’ve got this, guys. I’m just a couple blocks away, it’s still daylight, and I can call Rem to meet me halfway.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bucky told her and took her uninjured hand. “We’ll walk you home, you’re exhausted.”

“I can’t argue with you guys, can I?”

“Nope. C’mon, Darce, before you fall over.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wow! I am blown away at how well received this fic has been!! THANK YOU for all your kind words! It really motivates a girl to carve out more time to work on it, that's for sure! <3 That said, I have a weird schedule where I have absolutely *no time* for anything but work and sleep for three days out of the week, so you'll get a couple days of uber updates, then a bit of a lag.

*~*~

Steve hadn’t ever seen her look this fragile before. He’d been very aware of how petite she was; the short, curvy girls always had drawn his attention the most. But he had never thought of her as being fragile or delicate. No, Darcy Lewis was a powerhouse of motion and soft muscle. She was sarcastic, smart, and very much a mother. Over the last few months, he’d kind of fallen under her spell a little, the light friendly affection deepening into something that seemed suspiciously like love.

And Bucky… his best friend wasn’t necessarily shy about his own feelings, though they manifested in ways that Steve was sure no one else picked up on. Darcy was oblivious to them both, though they weren’t really subtle in their affections. Bucky wasn’t this handsy with _anyone_ aside from Steve, and he watched her whenever he could. He did small things that made her smile and sought her out during quiet times when she was alone in the labs, or in the kitchens.

More than once, Steve had found Bucky following her home to make sure she was safe, the two of them finally teaming up to go together. Seeing her so pale and blank-faced in the kitchen, blood pouring all over from the cut in her hand, Stark trying to get her attention without touching her or scaring her, had been like a punch to the gut. When he reached her and touched her arm without any reaction, there was a cold chill down his spine.

Her reactions had been too slow, despite her rapid breathing and racing pulse. He’d recognized the signs of a PTSD flashback; something he had never in a million years thought he’d see in the young woman. It was all there, and now as they walked closer to her townhouse building, he saw that she was getting lost in her thoughts again. There was something going on, something that had been triggered lately. She hadn’t been herself over the last week, looking pale and tired, her shine a little bit duller than normal.

Steve locked eyes with Bucky over her head, raising his eyebrows and receiving a concerned frown back. 

Darcy led them up the walk to the large brownstone townhouse she lived in and slipped through the iron gate, holding it open for them to come through. Steve felt something like an electric current run up his spine, and he shuddered at the feel of it. Bucky had tensed beside him, and he knew his friend had felt it too. Darcy seemed oblivious as she continued up the walk, silently taking the steps to the front door.

She stared at the elaborate doorknocker for a long moment before taking a deep breath and reaching for the knob. She looked over her shoulder at them, and her eyes looked dark and haunted in the shade. “Why don’t you guys come in for a bit? Sirius is on Harry duty for the day, and they’re probably upstairs in his art studio. I think we still have some coffee, if Remus hasn’t hijacked it all.”

The minute they were in the front hallway, there was a clatter and thump from upstairs and Harry’s voice carried down the stairs. There was another, heavier thump, and a man’s voice called out, “Harry! Wait! Let me go first, prongslet!”

“But, Siri, it’s Mama-.” Bucky’s feet were planted behind Darcy, and Steve saw that he was ready for a confrontation, instinctively reacting to whatever he was feeling in the air.

They could see Harry dart from the upstairs hallway to the top of the stairs, his little face excited to see his mom so early in the day. Behind him, a tall, lanky man rushed in and scooped him up in his arms, a look of curious anxiety on his almost pretty features. “Harry, we’ve talked about this! Bloody hell, child, you’re gonna give me fits.”

“Language, Black,” Darcy called up to him, and the man seemed to visibly relax. “I wasn’t feeling good, so I came home. Steve and Bucky walked me, and since I completely mucked up lunch, I was gonna pull out stuff here. Anything I should be aware of going forward? No weirdness in the kettle, or experiments in the oven?”

The other man was almost too casual as he carried Harry down the stairs under one arm, the little boy grinning at them impishly. “Hi, Mama! We were doing art!”

About halfway down, Sirius slid a polished stick into the back of his bun as if it was just an elaborate hair-stick. Steve got the impression that it was more of a convenient weapon choice than an accessory.

“Hey, little man,” Darcy leaned down and kissed his forehead in a smacking, exaggerated way that made the boy giggle. “You can totally give me the low-down on it later, kay? Right now, Mama doesn’t feel too good.”

“Okay, Mama. Siri, let me down!” Harry kicked his feet a little, wiggling in his uncle’s grip.

“On one condition, prongslet,” Siri told him, flipping him upside down gently, making his giggles louder. “You’ve got a mess to clean up before tea. If it dries, we’ll never get it out.”

“Ooookay,” Harry sighed, but giggled again when Darcy tickled his ribs and blew a raspberry on his stomach where his shirt had ridden up. When he was let loose, he hugged his mother’s thighs, waved at Steve and Bucky, then ran back up the stairs.

“You okay, Princess,” Sirius asked when Harry was out of hearing range. He looked her over, stepping close enough that Bucky reached out to pull her back before he realized what he was doing, soldier instincts still telling him _protect_ and _mine_. For her part, Darcy just patted Bucky’s hands where they had landed on her hips, her lips curving up gently.

“It’s okay, Buck, this is my brother, Siri,” she said, then tried to pull away to go toward the kitchen. Bucky resisted, but only for a second before he must have caught up with himself and he let her go. Sirius looked like he wanted to step between Darcy and the strange men that had just appeared in the foyer of his house.

“Sirius, this is Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes. Now you guys have been officially introduced.” Darcy wavered just a little bit on her feet and the frown on Sirius’s face deepened as he came forward again to take her arm, noting the white bandage wrapped around her palm and the blood on the front of her shirt.

“Bullocks on the ‘okay’ shite, Lewis.” Sirius looked like he wanted to growl, especially when Steve stepped closer as if to protect Darcy from whatever he could see brewing on the other man’s face. Her brother looked rougher than Steve had thought Darcy’s kin would be, and if they were really related, he’d eat his shield. Every inch of visible skin from the neck down was covered with ink, colors mixed with bold black lines in designs and pictures that nearly merged into one giant mural. He sported a ring in his lip and nose, and he’d be damned if it only leant more charm to the other man instead of taking it away.

“Listen, I’m okay. I’m super tired, and… and…” Darcy sighed and waved her hands vaguely in the air before pushing her way further into the house. “Stark.”

“Stark?” Sirius gave the boys another bewildered glance and followed her. “What’s the overinflated ego have to do with you coming home pale as a sheet and bandaged up?”

Taking the opportunity to look through the inside of Darcy’s home, Steve walked behind Bucky through to the open kitchen/living area. The place was done in gleaming mahogany hardwood and slate colored furniture with brightly colored pillows and throw blankets. It was large and open, and managed to look modern and rustic all at the same time. He noticed a lot of candles and what looked like gas lamps mixed in with the electric fixtures. There was a distinct lack of a television or any kind of gadgets in the usual places. After living in Stark Tower for so long, the absolute lack of electronics was almost startling. There wasn’t even a digital clock anywhere to be seen.

He remembered Darcy bitching at Clint over her iPod during her first week, narrowing those blue eyes at him in sincere ire. _ “Do you know how long it took me to get that sucker how I liked it? I nearly blew up _five_ of the bastards before I could get it right, Barton. And now I can’t remember how to get the combo right again.”_ He was getting the feeling now that she hadn’t just been over dramatic. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen her with another music player since.

Darcy shook her head and sighed, “Man, I don’t even want to go into it right now. He didn’t do anything. He just… He just reminded me of… of…” Her voice cracked a little, and Steve came up so that he could see her better. He felt a dip in his stomach when Sirius silently took the carton of milk out of her hands and set it on the counter, then gathered her up into a hug.

Feeling awkward, he turned his back and was relieved to see that Bucky had taken a seat on one of the bar stools as to not be as much of an intimidating figure. Steve could still see the tension in the lines of his friend’s frame, but he was at least making an effort to not loom. Casually, the blond moved to look closer at the series of framed photos on the fireplace mantle. It was filled to capacity and then some with pictures of Darcy and Harry, some by themselves, and some with Sirius and another man Steve didn’t recognize but assumed was the man Darcy had referred to as Remus. Then there were pictures of Sirius with him in various poses, arms wrapped around each other, looking very much in love.

He picked up one and smiled at the sweet scene. Harry was on Sirius’s shoulders, and he must have only been about two years old. Darcy was on Remus’s back, her legs held up near his waist, and she peered over his shoulder, a wan smile on her face. Steve sobered as he saw the sadness underneath the forced happiness in her expression, her eyes dark behind her glasses.

He set it back down and looked at the photos behind the front row and stilled. These all showed another man and a completely different time and place. They were all so much younger, no more than sixteen or seventeen, and even though there were plenty of the four boys together in what looked like private school uniforms, there were more with a very young, redhaired Darcy and this strange boy. She looked so different, but it was definitely her.

The center picture was one of Darcy, heavily pregnant, leaning against this other man on the steps of a fountain. His arms were around her, hands spread protectively, proudly, across her large belly. Dark jealousy sparked through Steve right then, immediately followed by shame. This was Harry’s father. He could see the resemblance to the little boy; dark, unruly hair, thin but shapely lips, the curve of his nose. The dark eyes stared back at him from behind wire-framed glasses, and the smirk was arrogant enough to remind him of Tony.

Looking at the Darcy in the photo, he saw the glaring differences in that girl and the one that was currently talking to them about idle nonsense as she put together soup and sandwiches. She’d changed her hair and eye color, and in all of the older pictures, she wasn’t wearing glasses at all. The pieces were coming together, and he didn’t like the direction it was going at all.

*~*~

_Mine. Protect. Shelter. Mine._ Bucky was having a hard time not coming over the counter that divided the kitchen from the living area. His metal hand was clenched in his lap, and he tried valiantly to relax his muscles into a more acceptable posture. His teeth were clenched so hard that his jaw hurt, and there was a tickle in his chest that wanted to form into a growl at the familiar way in which this _stranger/threat_ handled Darcy. This was her home, this was her family, he tried reminding himself. Sirius was her brother, the Siri that she talked about when she spoke of what her son and his uncles were up to at home. Not a threat. But there was something about the other man that raised the soldier’s hackles.

There was something about all of this that rankled his instincts and told him to be ready for anything. It teased at the edges, a prickly kind of electric energy that screamed _other_. It was familiar, but he couldn’t put a name to it. He could feel Punk behind him, a reassuring presence that kept that darkness from creeping any further into action.

Bucky had been drawn to Darcy Lewis since that first moment in the common room kitchens, when he’d seen her with her son, baking pies. The combination of the smell of cinnamon, pie dough, and the very light juxtaposition of roses and sandalwood, had reached deep into his senses and triggered something primal that went deeper than anything Hydra had done to him. For a moment, he was back to James Bucky Barnes, the kid from Brooklyn that scrapped in the streets and loved to chase pretty girls. He was the kid that dreamed of coming home to a pretty wife, kids, and pies baking in the oven. When she turned to greet them, a laugh on her lips, her eyes shining behind her glasses, he felt like he’d been gut-punched.

Stevie was sweet on her; Bucky had known that before he’d ever met the dame. That was why he’d braved the common area in the first place, to see what the fuss was about. Punk wasn’t one to go all dewy-eyed over just anybody, and he wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything to worry about.

There was a lot to worry about, but none of it was because Darcy was a scheming femme fatale waiting for her chance to stab Captain America in the ribs. No, as the weeks went by and Bucky was drawn in more and more, he saw things that he knew she’d be frightened that he’d picked up. She was on the run from something. It was in the way she acted around strangers sometimes, and how she carefully edited herself. It was smooth, and she obviously had practice at it, but he’d been trained to see those patterns. Everyone else in Stark Tower was too, but none of them had developed a single-minded obsession of observing their resident caretaker. He had, and he saw it all.

Now, he was surrounded by everything _her_, and there was another man standing too close to her, someone he knew wasn’t really her blood. A man that _knew_ her, knew things that Bucky so far could only guess at. He knew what she was running from. This other man was responsible for her safety, and Bucky didn’t like it.

“Hey, Buck, do you like pickles?” The question caught him off guard, and Bucky blinked at her for a second before nodding shortly. He didn’t really know if he _did_ like pickles. Did he?

Steve snorted and took the stool next to him. “Dill only, doll-face. The jerk here hates the sweet ones.”

Darcy gave them a watered-down version of her usual grin and waved a paring knife in their general direction. “As if there’s any other kind of pickles! This one likes bread and butter pickles.” She elbowed Sirius, who was next to her, slicing pieces of cheddar off a larger brick.

“Hey, now, no pickle shaming, Lewis. We’ve had this conversation before.” Darcy sent him a mischievous side-eye glance that made Bucky’s fingers twitch. Was he jealous? Was that what this tight, angry feeling in his chest was?

“We are _not_ going into that, Black. That’s between you and…” her voice trailed off and she looked pointedly down at the pate of vegetables and sandwich fixings she was preparing, blinking hard.

It was Sirius’s turn to nudge her back, and he pressed a kiss to her temple before snagging the knife from her hand. The teasing in his voice was forced this time as he took the plate she was working on, “I’ve gone over this before, pickle preference has absolutely no bearing on the person as a whole. We can take it up with Remus when he eventually gets back from post-grad hell.”

Darcy’s eyes were a bit too shiny as she glanced up at Steve and Bucky. It was obviously an old conversation that brought up painful memories. “Go ahead and take a spot at the table, boys. I’m gonna go change really quick and gather the tadpole for tea.”

The three men fell into an uncomfortable silence as Sirius transferred the food to the large oak table off to the side and slid plates onto the settings.

“How long have you known Darcy,” Steve asked finally, breaking the quiet. Sirius looked at him over the top of a glass of what looked like dark orange juice. He glanced between Steve and Bucky as if he was trying to decide something important.

“Since we were eleven,” the other man said, relaxing back into his chair. There was a tension that was coiled just under the surface, something that didn’t escape either of their notice. Bucky felt a tiny spark of respect for the dark-haired man, at least he wasn’t treating them like idiots. “We went to school together. Darcy’s… Harry’s father was my best mate growing up. His family adopted me when my own turned me out. Remus, James, and I were in the same dorm room.”

“Listen,” Sirius continued, looking one in the eye, then the other. “I know you two are safe, and I see how you are with Darcy. I’ve done my research on everyone I can at that place you work. The Avengers are a notorious bunch, yeah? My sister can take care of herself, but I can rest easier knowing she’s got the likes of you blokes looking out for her. Just… don’t push. She’s been through a lot, and we’ve got secrets that can’t be prodded too much without backlash.”

Steve had opened his mouth to ask more questions, but the sound of Harry’s feet on the stairs and the hallway stopped him. The little boy hurtled through the living area to launch himself at Steve, who caught him with little effort, hauling him up into his lap.

“Mama says you’re gonna teach me jumps!” Harry informed him, green eyes shining up underneath that trademark fringe. Steve thought about the picture on Darcy’s mantle, the green eyes that peered out at the world. Harry had his mother’s eyes, and no one in their new life knew it. Steve felt a rush of affection for the boy that had little to do with how he felt about Darcy. Whatever it was that his mother was running from, this little one was a fighter. He made a promise to himself as he playfully chatted with the five-year-old as they ate.

Whatever comes, he would do everything in his power to protect this little boy and his mother.

*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally had the thought that maybe I should do a timeline for this thing... You guys have probably picked up that the HP timeline has been brought forward in time, so the thing with Voldemort happened in current times. I have to admit that I have not made my way through all of the Avengers movies, though I'm making a huge effort =) Obviously, I stick to the major plot points up to a certain point, and I'll fill in more details as we go. This fic is an AU where I go off in my own timeline with things and try not to fuck it up too badly. Thank the gods that fanfic isn't crazy with rules on how authors have to go about things, right? Aaaaanyway, thank you so much for reading this crazy, and I hope I don't disappoint as we go forward!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screams in excitement* THANK YOU for all the love y'all have given this fic!! I appreciate every single one of you! <3 <3 That said, this chapter deals with more epic angst, panic attacks, and an over-protective grr of a super soldier. Major hurt/comfort here, and moving in the right direction!

*~*~*

"C'mon, sweetheart, we're gonna go over some defense training."

Darcy eyed Steve over the rims of her glasses, eyebrow raised and a disbelieving purse to her lips. "You did not just suggest defense training."

His lips twitched, but he tried for seriousness. "Boss's orders."

"Which boss?"

"Me," Tony piped up, and Darcy turned her glare to him instead. He shrugged, "Actually, Hill was bitching at me in a three-hour meeting until I caved and signed all the memos she shoved under my nose in a desperate act of self-preservation. The security gods say that all non-combatant personnel are required to do basic defense training, evacuation drills, and something, something... whatever training."

"And," Clint added as he joined them in the common area, reaching out to snag an apple out of the fruit basket Darcy always made sure to keep stocked, "As core personnel critical to the care and feeding of the Avengers and applied science team, you're at the top of the list."

Darcy rolled her eyes and feigned exasperation, when in reality her mind was spinning. What the hell was she supposed to do? If she went along with it and played the part of helpless civilian, there was a real possibility that she'd slip up and have an accidental magic incident- which was known to happen in times of stress. Her body and magic didn't always know the difference between friend and foe.

If she stepped up and showed them that she was more than capable of handling herself, there would be more questions. What would be more damning? Doing a quick pro and con list in her head, Darcy sighed and allowed Steve to pull her to her feet to buy herself some time. She wished desperately that Jane was planet-side instead of off on fucking Asgard playing princess. After the incident in the kitchen, it seemed like everyone was keeping her close. Too close, as if they’d realized that she wasn’t necessarily telling them all of it. Of course, they knew now that she had some sort of epic trauma in her past. No one had a disassociation episode over nothing. Thank the gods no one had outright called her on it just yet.

"Do we have to start now," she whined, trying to buy a little time. If she could get them to reschedule, she could do more charms to hide the... physical... reminders of her past. She'd been sure of a quiet day inside the temperature controlled tower and hadn't applied the notice-me-not charm under all the layers of shirts sweaters, and gloves. The thought of dressing down into workout clothes was coming close to giving her heart palpitations. "And what about Jane? Doesn't she count as non-combatant personnel? If I have to do this, then she should too. And, wouldn't it be a better use of time to pool all the normies into one group and do it all together? Like... like a class or something?"

"We will be doing a class for the 'normies'. But you're special, Darce, so you get the best of the best," Natasha chimed in from behind Steve, and Darcy huffed in annoyance.

"Geeze, is it like, all hands on deck to see the minion get trampled?"

"No," Clint snickered, waving his hand toward the outside walls, "Barnes is doing whatever it is he does, Thor is playing politics, and Banner is off in lab-land. It's just us, cupcake."

Darcy pointed a finger at him and said coolly, "Don't mess with the chick who feeds you, Barton."

By the time they'd herded her down to the gym, Darcy was resigned to her fate. She couldn't risk the questions showing off would bring, not with the likes of Tony Stark watching. Any story she came up with could be checked, and it would take a spectacular show to convince the superheroes that she was equipped to deal with the kind of threat that usually came at the tower.

Besides, after the incident in the kitchen, he’d been watching her a lot closer. He was still a snarky asshole, but he seemed to be a bit more tender in his dealings with her. She tried to avoid being alone with him without being too obvious. It wasn’t easy, considering he had an annoying habit of trying to steal her from Jane for his own lab use. When she couldn’t avoid him, Darcy had gotten pretty proficient at the ‘distract and evade’ protocol. Thank Merlin Tony was easily distracted, and she was used to dealing with a five-year-old.

Natasha guided her into the locker room and handed her a set of workout clothes. Darcy was about to point out that not only was the assassin-turned spy-turned good guy operative-but still a spy, much leggier than she was, Natasha was about three sizes smaller. But the redhead informed her that everything was her size.

"Consider it a welcoming gift."

Blushing furiously, Darcy thanked her and turned her back to slowly start undressing, slowly pulling one layer off at a time. _Morgana’s Mantle_, she really didn't want to do this.

"No one is going to judge you, _mischa_," Natasha said suddenly, and Darcy glanced over at her, surprised by the gentleness of her tone. The other woman was already in workout clothes and was sitting on the bench, resting her elbows on her thighs as she spoke. "On any of it. Our goal is to help you, not make you uncomfortable."

Darcy shook her head, biting at her lip before confiding, "It's not that, Nat. It's... I, um..." she still hesitated, then closed her eyes. If anyone would understand, it would be Natasha. "My life before... wasn't all that nice. I don't... I can't talk about it, and I don't want anyone to wonder or ask. My brother, Siri, is a tattoo artist, and he's covered what he can, but you know how sharp the guys are. They're gonna get all bent."

Darcy leaned against the lockers and crossed her arms over her stomach, looking at the bench in front of her, her fingers holding the ends of the sleeves of her under shirt over her hands. She didn't want to lie, because lying just got you found out faster. It was better to just give the bare bones of the truth and let them come up with their own conclusions. Besides, Steve and Bucky had already met Sirius, so they knew the truth of one aspect.

The majority of the scars from Riddle were across her upper arms, chest, and stomach, so she'd been able to keep them underneath her clothing. But then there were the ones left over from her time fighting the Death Eaters with the order in the years between graduation and that awful night, some of which were pretty bad. Her right arm had been left with thick, ropey burn scars from a vial of acidic potion. Sirius had tied his best with his tattooing, but there was only so much he could do. Her upper back and shoulders weren’t much better, and she really wished she’d been able to take care of Bellatrix Lestrange before they’d had to disappear. Remus had brought home news of her imprisonment, and Darcy couldn’t help but feel a deep satisfaction. Azkaban wasn’t like muggle prisons where there were laws on how people were treated, and in this case, Darcy couldn’t bring herself to have much empathy.

_ "Filthy mudblood! What will your blood traitor husband think of you now? Not so fuckable with melted flesh, now are we?"_

Darcy shuddered and swallowed hard. Now was not the time for that to come up. She'd been in St. Mungos for two weeks after the potion incident. They'd managed to save her arm, and the scarring was from mid-forearm up, but nothing could change what had happened. She remained grateful that they hadn’t aimed for her face.

"I don't want to have to answer any questions."

She jumped when Natasha touched her arm, and Darcy looked up at her and saw the pleasant mask she had on over her innate blankness. Her eyes were a stormy mix of anger, sympathy, and protectiveness.

"You won't," she promised. "Go ahead and change, and I'll see if I need to find you something that covers more."

Nodding but still incredibly uncomfortable, Darcy stripped and redressed in the workout clothes. They were exactly her size, even a bit larger like she liked it. It wasn't surprising, given how observant they all were. The cotton pants were loose enough for her to move in, but not overly large. The sports bra was the most impressive, being that it actually fit Darcy without any sort of epic squishing or jiggling. She tried not to notice Natasha going more and more still and silent behind her as she could feel the burning weight of her friend’s gaze on her back as she got dressed.

She eyed the purple sport tank with trepidation. It was a razor back, cut to show off collarbone, shoulders, and part of the back. Darcy stared at it like it was a snake. She shook her head and looked at Natasha in the mirror. "Do you have a t-shirt I could wear instead?"

Nodding, Natasha silently handed over a black t-shirt. It was tighter than Darcy liked, but it was much better than the alternative. After she'd pulled it over her head, she asked, "Please don't say anything to anyone? I... I just... I can't tell that story yet."

After another long look in the mirror, staring at the colorful flower garden Sirius had inked over the scar tissue of her arm, Darcy sighed and turned around to face her friend. She wished once again that she'd kept with her habit of doing the notice-me-not. It was too late for any charms now that Natasha had seen them. Besides, she’d left her wand in her bag back in the lab. She’d been paranoid about using magic in the tower around all of Tony’s fancy, uber expensive gadgets. The last thing she needed was to fry something that couldn’t easily be fixed or replaced.

"Your secrets are my secrets, _mischa_," Natasha assured her, reaching out to touch her hand. "And the boys will watch themselves, or they'll have me to deal with."

*~*~*

Bucky saw her before anyone else and knew something was wrong. He'd gotten used to her teasing nature, her somewhat abrasive confidence, and this timid girl that followed reluctantly behind Natalia, hugging one arm across her stomach, bracing a hand over her elbow, felt very wrong. He scanned her form, looking for anything out of place, and stopped at her arms. He knew she was tattooed; he'd seen glimpses of it before when watching her work and after the incident in the kitchen. But he hadn't known the extent... or the reason.

He was standing in front of her before he realized he was moving, reaching for her arm. She froze, and he could see those blue eyes of hers widen, but she didn't move back. Beside them, he felt Natalia go tense, and he wanted to snarl at her to back the fuck away, to stand down. He bit it back and focused on Darcy.

She let him stretch her arm out and look, though he could feel her trembling. Underneath the colorful flowers and vines, he could see the nasty marks of acid burns. It couldn't be anything less, and he'd seen it too many times before to question himself. Bucky kept his touch very light as he took it in, then looked up at her face. She was very pale, her eyes shadowed with barely hidden pain and fear. But she didn't hold fear of him, it was fear of a different kind. She smiled at him, a press of full lips curved up in a wry kind of gesture. He didn't know if she was trying to reassure, or if it was just reflex.

He could feel the heat of someone coming up behind him and barely stopped himself from lashing out and taking care of the threat. He had to protect. No one could hurt her._ Mine._ No. Not an enemy. _Stevie_. It was his friend. _Not an enemy_. Punk wouldn't hurt her. Darcy turned her hand in his and gripped it, closing her eyes as Steve swore when he saw her arm. Spots of color appeared in her cheeks, and for a moment he thought she was going to cry.

Her voice was unsteady when she spoke, and it made his stomach clench. "I can't talk about it, guys, so please don't ask. Yes, it sucked, and yes, the person who did it got what they deserved. I don't want any more attention on this, okay? Just... let it be."

Bucky could see the tick of her heartbeat fast against the skin of her neck, and the coldness of the soldier licked at his mind. They wanted him to take her someplace safe, someplace guarded. Her scent was flooding him, cinnamon, apples, and rose-hinted sandalwood. _Home, warm, soft, mine._ Steve reached out to touch her elbow, a gentle agreement on his lips. Bucky instinctively blocked him, swinging a startled Darcy around and behind him. He backed them up against the wall, near the doorway, his human arm gripping hers while his metal one whirred and flexed as he readied himself to defend his prize. Someone had already hurt her, and he could not allow that to come to pass again.

He stared blankly at the men and woman that had taken up a ready stance, all of them poised to intervene, but all of them hesitant. Steve stood between them, one arm out to hold everyone back, and a hand outstretched toward him. He could feel Darcy's fingers gripping the back of his shirt at the waist, the coolness of her fingers coming through the thin fabric. She was small but solid at his back, and there was an electric current of energy playing between them, something that he had noticed more and more in their interactions since that day at her home when he’d stepped through the front garden gate.

"Buck, it's all right," Steve said carefully, taking a half step toward them, then stopping when Bucky widened his stance just slightly. "No one's going to hurt her."

Bucky just stared.

Darcy's voice was low behind him, and he turned his face just slightly to the side to indicate he was listening while keeping his eyes trained on the group. "I'm okay, Bucky. The people who hurt me are far, far away. It happened a long time ago, in a different life."

"Jamie, listen to her," Steve said gently, using the nickname only he used, and only in the moments where he wanted Bucky to _listen_. It was a name only said between the two of them. Behind him he heard Darcy's sharp inhalation, felt her jerk against him.

"Shh, it's okay," Darcy soothed when he shifted again. She laid her hand flat against his back reassuringly. Her voice went even lower until she was speaking barely above a whisper. "It surprised me, that's all. M- my husband... was named Jamie. He died protecting me and Harry. The people who did it aren't here anymore, Buck. You don't have to protect me."

He felt her rest her head against his back shoulder, and he felt the soldier easing back down. Bucky had never been so hyper-aware of another person that wasn’t trying to kill him as he was right then with her at his back. _Soldat_ had never backed down so easily before. He was barely aware of the others standing down when Steve relaxed his stance. Darcy didn't rush away when he released her and turned to face her. She stepped forward into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

She was shivering, and he was helpless to stop himself from gathering her close, one hand going to cup the back of her head. This was the first time since he'd regained his memories that he had held someone like this. They’d had moments in their movie nights, where Darcy had taken up a spot between him and Steve, but that had usually been her leaning up against his side with his arm around her for comfort, or with her feet against his thigh as she leaned against Steve. This… this was different.

"I want to go home," Darcy murmured, and Bucky nodded, but neither of them moved.

"So... I guess our training session was a bust," Tony burst in, breaking the solemn, tense mood. "Cap gets the honor of telling our security queen that we bailed."

With that, the billionaire was gone. Darcy held no illusions that this was anywhere near over. Tony would more than likely come at her with a million questions after he looks her up and fails to find anything. She needed to talk to Sirius and Remus again. Darcy had vetoed bringing the Avengers into the know about her past and what might come for her and Harry. It had blown up into a vicious shouting match at one point, Sirius thinking she was being stupidly stubborn and blind. He was of the notion that there was safety in numbers, and that of all people, the fucking _superheroes_ she played nursemaid for would be the best at keeping her hidden.

_ “I swear on Merlin’s fucking beard, Evans! How can they help you if they don’t know what’s coming? Do you _want_ to have to run when the people back home put it together that you’re still alive and kicking?”_

Darcy had stormed down into the basement, slamming the door behind her. Two hours later, a much calmer Sirius had come to apologize, though he stuck by his opinion. She’d returned his apology with one of her own and promised to think about it. It hadn’t helped that Remus sided with his partner, independently saying basically the same thing, only using different words.

"I'm taking a sick day." Darcy still didn't lift her face from Bucky's chest, and he didn't pull away, so she figured it was okay for a couple more minutes. She didn't want to look at anyone. Especially Steve.

"Bucky and I can walk you home, sweetheart." Darcy felt the horrible burning at the back of her eyelids at the sweet way he spoke to her. There wasn't any pity to him, just honest concern and understanding.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

Bucky's arms tightened around her, and she could feel Steve moving around them, then he was pressing against her back and enfolding them both into an embrace. Her chest heaved in a painful sob, fingers gripping Bucky’s shirt like a lifeline. She _hated_ crying, especially where others could see her, and it seemed like it was happening more and more. _Tartarus on ice_, she was a hot mess.

Darcy had no sense of time after that, just relaxing into the flood of emotion as she cried it out. Steve and Bucky were solid around her, two sets of arms protecting her in her moments of vulnerability. She should have felt suffocated, or even uncomfortable, but instead she felt safe in a way that she hadn’t since before she and Harry had left England behind.

When the flood eased, she heaved in a deep, shuddering sigh and let it out slowly.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, so low that she wasn’t sure if they could hear her. Steve shifted behind her, and she felt him press a kiss to the side of her head. Bucky stroked his fingers down her back tenderly, and Darcy never wanted to move. But it was getting awkward just standing there, and she knew that they must have other things to be doing than coddling a psychotic woman having a mental breakdown.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sugar,” Bucky assured her in that low, husky voice of his. He pulled back so that he could look down at her, and she shook her head, wiping at her face with a grimace, trying to hide what she was certain was a nasty mess. He cupped his fingers under her chin and raised her face to look at him, and she hiccupped, to her further embarrassment.

“I snotted all over your shirt, big guy,” she sniffled, patting at the wet spot on his dark gray t-shirt. “And I’m sure I have yuck all over my face.”

“You’re beautiful,” he told her, and she went very still, her eyes going misty again as she read the truth in his eyes. Steve’s hands flexed on her hips, and Bucky’s attention went over her head to look at his best friend. Whatever they communicated with their eyes was beyond Darcy’s ability to interpret, and besides, she was too tired to even try.

“Hey, why don’t we get you home,” Steve said finally, and stroked her hair one last time before stepping away. “I’ve got a sweatshirt you can borrow.”

With that, and another gentle squeeze of her hip, he walked toward the locker room. Darcy leaned on Bucky, not wanting to pull away just yet. She was feeling out of sorts and still vaguely upset. The prospect of bringing the Avengers in on her secrets was far too real, and it was scaring her more than it really should. They had become very important to her, and there was a big part of her that was anticipating having to disappear off the map again.

Just the thought of it made her chest hurt. By the time Steve came back out, wearing his own sweatshirt and carrying two more, one for Darcy and one for Bucky, she had half convinced herself that this would probably be the last time she was this close to them. Her mind was made up. For good or bad, she was going to have to tell them.

*~*~*

When they were nearing her home, Darcy’s steps slowed, and the boys followed suit naturally, as if they were completely in tune with her movements and intentions. She had absolutely no doubt that they were, and it made her insides go all wonky. She hunched a little more into the soft fabric of Steve’s sweatshirt. It swam on her in all the right ways, and it smelled like him- a combination of clean, crisp cologne, and something she could only think of as a freshly bathed and dried sleepy puppy that had been napping in the sunshine. It reminded her of Harry when he was snuggled up after a long day of play, and she wanted to just curl up with it.

All of this frightened her. The feelings she had toward these two men who guarded her as they walked her home, the easiness with which they seemed to accept her oddness, and the very, very real thought that she was going to lose them before she ever really had them. There was the ache of guilt and grief that was just under the surface; James would never truly be healed from her heart, and was that truly fair? Darcy wasn’t sure if she was ready… for any of it. She just now realized that what she was feeling for Steve and Bucky went beyond that deep affection you felt for close friends. There was a knot in her chest that was growing thicker the more she dwelled on it.

When she came to a stop three houses down from hers, she stared at the pavement in front of her for a long time, trying to reign her thoughts and emotions into a better order. A week and a half into October, and she wasn’t all that steady. She never was this time of year. As soon as the air turned cool and people started putting up the Halloween decorations, she started going inward. Was this the right time for any of this?

Steve touched her back, and she looked up into his concerned gaze, the blue so clear and earnest that she felt undeserving. He was one of the best men she’d ever known. A true _good guy_ in the classic sense of the word. A real gentleman, her grandma would have said. Here she was, damaged goods in so many ways. How could he see her as anything to want in his life?

And Bucky… damnit. He’d already been through so much. Who was Darcy to drag him into a fight that wasn’t his? She knew that the wizarding world thought that everything was done and over with, that Voldemort was finished and so was his reign of terror. But anyone with two brain cells to rub together knew that it was only a matter of time. Magic was ever changing, ever morphing into bigger and more complex things. Riddle’s poison went deep, centuries deep and rooted into the very structure of the wizarding world itself. He wasn’t the first dark lord to appear, and he wouldn’t be the last.

These two men had already fought a monster just like him, and Bucky had just barely escaped those very same kinds of fanatics. Who was she to bring them into it again? Darcy felt like she was going to vomit, and she felt her breath getting shorter and shorter. She was shaking, and a familiar panic was starting to rise up in her throat. It was the same panic she’d felt when Sirius and Remus had informed her that she wasn’t making the escape from the wizarding world without them. It was the same as when she thought of Harry and what his future would bring, of what Riddle had intended for her little boy; of what the powers that be of the wizarding world _still_ had in store for her son.

Jerking when she felt a hand on her arm, she gasped and nearly choked. Bucky turned her gently to face him, cupping his palms over her cheeks, the metal of his hand cold on her skin. He lifted her face up and locked his eyes with hers. “Breathe with me, Darcy,” he ordered her, his voice low but firm. His chest and shoulders moved up slowly as he brought in a deep breath, and she tried to listen.

Her chest felt tight, and all she could manage were short gasps. Her vision blurred, and she could feel her own shudders running up and down her frame. “Darcy,” Bucky repeated her name, a bit firmer, a bit harsher, “Breathe.”

Steve was behind her, and she felt his hands around her middle, “C’mon, darling. You’re all right.” One large hand pressed against her chest. “Follow our lead now. Breathe in.”

Darcy could feel his chest against her spine, slowly expanding with air, even as she watched Bucky’s do the same in front of her. She struggled to follow, blowing the air back out when they did. After a few minutes, her pulse was more normal, and she was able to bring in a full breath and let it out again. Weakly, she leaned back against Steve, clasping Bucky’s hand that had joined his on her collarbone.

“There you go,” Bucky murmured, stroking her hair back away from her face. “Good girl. You’re okay, we’ve got you.”

She shook her head, “Why are you two… I’m nothing but trouble. I- I-… I couldn’t stand it if you got hurt b-because of me.”

“Babe,” Bucky cut in, bringing his face closer to hers. “Listen, you know my history. You probably know it better than I do, yeah? You know that there’s little on this earth that _hasn’t_ already tried to maim, torture, or kill me. There’s not much your past can do to hurt me. It would be my honor to stand between you and any threat that comes your way.”

“You can’t say that,” Darcy whispered brokenly. “You don’t _know_.”

“Then tell us,” Steve said, and she couldn’t look at him, not when she could hear the pleading earnestness in his voice. “You don’t have to carry this alone, sweetheart. Let us help.”

Darcy closed her eyes and nodded after a few moments of silence. “Let’s go inside my place. It’s safer there.”

*~*~*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, guys, I am so sorry it took so long to get this out! I had a long-planned vacation to Hawaii, then epic amounts of real-life getting uber busy. That, and I got a little stuck on how to go about this chapter. :) Nothing really seemed right, but through editing and re-editing, I think it's serviceable. I do have to say that I took some liberties in Darcy's explanation, so the wizarding background may or may not be cannon. If I fall short and get stuff wrong, please just chalk it up to fanfiction artistic license and/or this being an AU... LOVE YOU and all the support you guys have given me for this story! THANK YOU. I really hope that this lives up to expectations.

*~*~*

The house was eerily quiet as Darcy let them in, and she stretched her magic out, searching for any sign of the boys. She couldn’t feel anyone and figured Sirius had taken Harry out somewhere, while Remus most likely had class. Behind her, she could feel Bucky shiver, and she turned to look at him searchingly.

“Bucky, what are you feeling right now,” she asked, then elaborated, “Like, in the air, the energy flow?”

He looked around, not even pretending not to know what she was talking about. Everything was as it had been the last time he and Steve had been there. He stretched out his senses and felt nothing physical; there wasn’t anything or anyone lurking around the corners. The townhouse was empty save for the three of them. Bucky focused on the nearly electric, crawling feeling that he felt when he was near Darcy’s home.

“Like I’m stand’n next to an electric generator. It… it almost crawls along like warm chills goin’ up my skin.”

Darcy nodded and reached out to squeeze his hand. “Well, that’ll make this easier. C’mon into the living room. You guys want something to drink before I get this shit-show started?”

The men exchanged a look and followed her into the living area, Steve requesting coffee, while Bucky shook his head in the negative. Steve figured she needed something mundane and routine to settle her nerves a bit, to give her time to organize her thoughts. This was a huge step, and he knew it wasn’t easy. When they took their seats on the sofa, they left a space for her between them, but Steve squeezed Bucky’s thigh briefly, bringing his friend’s attention to him.

After their last time accompanying Darcy home, sitting together on the sofa in their apartment, Steve and Bucky had talked about what they’d learned, and what they wanted to do about it. Confessing feelings that neither were surprised by, they’d fallen into their old routine of just talking it out. By the end of it, Steve had laid his head on Bucky’s chest as they’d decided no matter what, Darcy and her son were under their combined protection.

Right now, as Steve took the mug of hot coffee from her trembling hand and watched her take her seat between them, his chest ached for her. She looked so pale and drawn, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, exposing her features and the slim line of her neck. He shouldn’t feel so damn satisfied that she was still wearing his hoodie, the material swallowing her up in a protective layer that made her look even smaller. She had the sleeves down over her hands, cradling her steaming mug of tea between her palms. Gently, he took one of her hands and rolled the sleeve up so that it wasn’t bunched up as much around her elbows.

Bucky’s lips quirked as he watched him, then took her other hand and repeated the action when she’d regripped her tea. Darcy’s lips were trembling as she avoided looking at them, her breath stuttering in before she let it go with a slow exhale. She set her tea on the coffee table next to Steve’s and forced herself to sit back on the sofa, curling one leg underneath her while resting the other knee at her chest. As if by silent agreement, the men each gently claimed a hand, and Darcy felt a flutter in her stomach that was a different kind of nerves all together.

She very carefully kept her eyes on the steam coming up off her mug of tea. The fear of what she was about to do was so big that her chest felt heavy with it. Darcy heaved another breath and let it out slow, trying not to let herself get sucked back into the spiral of panic from earlier.

“I- I don’t know where to start, there’s so much.”

“Hey, it’s okay, doll. Take your time, we’re not going anywhere.”

Her grip tightened on their hands, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. “My name isn’t really Darcy Lewis, and I’m not actually from the US. I’m not… I’m not even a real brunette, and my eyes aren’t blue.”

Steve leaned over and pressed his lips to her temple, the action slow and deliberate, and something tight in her shoulders eased.

“My birth name was Lily Evans, and I was born outside of London in a suburb called Spinner’s End. I- I had a sister and parents. When I was eleven, I got a letter, delivered by a very strange man.” Her voice trailed off and she was silent for a long moment. She looked at one, then the other and seemed to brace herself. “It might be better if I just showed you.”

The boys watched as she got up, giving their hands a gentle squeeze before letting go. Bucky went very still when she pulled a polished wooden stick out of her messenger bag, the sight of it ticking a vague memory in the very back of his mind. It wasn’t triggering any sort of alarm, and _Soldat_ was silent for once. No, it wasn’t a _bad_ memory, but he still couldn’t corral it into manifesting.

“I’m a witch. I went to a magic boarding school from the time I was eleven until I was seventeen.” Darcy widened her stance just slightly and twirled her wand between her fingers, contemplating what to do next. She needed something gentle but showy, not too complicated. Tears prickled the back of her eyelids as she focused on Harry, on all the joy her little boy brought to her life. She let the love fill her core and expand outward, focusing into her wand. She hadn’t done a _patronus_ since James died; she’d been afraid she wouldn’t be able to.

Her son’s crooked, impish grin filled her mind’s eye, and then she gently moved her arm and pushed her magic and intent, stating firmly, _“Expecto Patronum!”_

The tip of her wand glowed a silver-blue, slowly growing in intensity and size until it filled the room. At first, it was just flowing light and a feeling of near overwhelming love and joy, then as Bucky and Steve watched with awed eyes, it started taking shape. A graceful doe took form, slim and delicate as it tentatively took a few steps. It was full-sized, standing tall enough to be nearly at Darcy’s shoulder. It looked at the men on the sofa with eyes barely brighter than the rest of it, then turned its attention to Darcy. They watched as the light bathed the soft angles of her face and sparkled on the tears running down her cheeks, and the hand not holding her wand aloft reached out to touch the curve of its ear.

“Don’t leave me,” Darcy whispered hoarsely, face crumbling. “I couldn’t bear it if you left me too.”

The doe moved closer and gently touched her nose to Darcy’s, then nuzzled her cheek. The young woman huffed a strangled laugh and touched a hand to the specter’s long neck. “I should have known you wouldn’t desert me.”

Her smile was relieved and radiant as she waved her wand and the deer bounded through the room, dancing along the walls, across the coffee table in front of a transfixed set of super soldiers, then disappeared in a last gentle burst of light. Darcy was breathing hard as the last remnants faded from the room, her face glowing with emotion. She closed her eyes, her wand dropping to her side.

“That was a patronus,” she explained breathlessly. “It’s a powerful protection charm that is based on happiness. Well, that’s a very oversimplified explanation, but that’s the core of it. Not everyone can cast a full patronus because it takes _a lot_ of concentration and will. You have to think of the happiest memory you can, of the things that bring you the greatest joy, and channel that into a corporeal form. I was actually scared to do it, to be honest.”

Darcy moved to pull the coffee table away from the sofa, then sat on it facing the boys, a little more relaxed now that the hardest part was over. There wasn’t any change in the way they looked at her, except now Steve looked like he was brimming with excited questions, his eyes bright with admiration and curiosity. Bucky’s face was carefully blank as he watched her, but his posture was easy, his hands resting on his thighs. His eyes were a dark silver-blue in the gentle light of the gas lamps they tended to use more than the electric, intent on her face.

“You guys probably have a lot of questions?”

Steve cleared his throat and leaned forward, “I have so many that it’d probably take forever to get through them,” he admitted. But with a glance over at Bucky, he sobered as he continued, “But right now, I think we need to know who and what you’re hiding from.”

Darcy looked down at the floor, biting at her lower lip. “That’s the million-dollar question, now isn’t it?”

Bucky reached out and retook her hand, his thumb lightly caressing the tops of her knuckles as he brought her gaze back up to his. “Nothin’s changed in how we see you, darlin’. In fact, you’re even more of a marvel than you were half an hour ago. But we’re threat oriented. Priority is knowing the enemy first, then all the rest of the details.”

Darcy’s eyes went misty and she wiped at her cheeks self-consciously. “I swear, I don’t normally cry so much. You guys must think I’m the biggest crybaby ever.”

“I think you’re a courageous, strong young woman who’s seen more than her share of terrible things,” Steve told her, reaching out to cup her chin tenderly. “You’ve kept this to yourself for so long, sweetheart. You don’t have to anymore.”

“I-,” Darcy was at a loss for words. She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “This is going to be a long story.”

“We’ve got time.”

“In the wizarding world, there’s an ancient hierarchy of blood status, which might sound stupid in this modern day and age, but it’s enough to start wars over. The purebloods are at the top, I guess you could say. They’re the ones that can trace their family lines all the way back to the original twenty-eight families. There’s a lot of inbreeding and bullshit that comes with it, kinda like the old royal families in the history books. Sirius comes from one of those families, and they’re a nasty bunch. He was disowned when he was a teenager and went to live with… with James and his family.”

Darcy paused, her fingers squeezing Steve’s briefly. “Then there’s the kids born of one magical parent and one muggle- non magic- parent. That’s just how it sounds, they’re usually pretty talented and powerful, they have some advantages that a lot of pureblood wizards don’t. They usually have a better understanding of both worlds, and they’re a hell of a lot more adaptable. Remus is part of that group, his dad is a wizard, and his mum’s a muggle.”

“And then, there’s my category. I’m muggle-born. Somewhere down the line, there was some sort of crossover with my ancestry that was more or less dormant. I started displaying magic when I was really little, mostly stupid things like floating of the swings, or making flowers grow. I turned my sister a nasty shade of mustard during an argument once. She was kinda scared of me after that.”

She looked over at the clock and blew out a breath at the sight of the time. “Let’s take this to the kitchen, and I’ll start in on dinner while I talk. You guys have any objections to baked chicken and a simple spinach and romaine salad?”

After Steve and Bucky were seated at the pub chairs lining the kitchen bar divider, Darcy kept talking while she took out defrosted chicken and layered it in a baking pan with oil, herbs, and slices of lemon and onion.

“Not everyone in the wizarding world is a total dick,” she said, causing Bucky’s lips to twitch up into a fondly amused smile. “There are a ton that are really amazing folks; kindhearted and down to earth. I went to school with a lot of them. But there are some that follow a really dark path. Tom Riddle was one of those. When we were in our sixth year, most of the real trouble started up. Riddle rose up as a Dark Lord, changing his name to Lord Voldemort, and starting a terrorist campaign against muggles and muggleborns. His followers were called Death Eaters, and they were mostly from the dark families working in secret underground style.”

Darcy's expression was dark as she stared down at the head of lettuce she had just placed on the cutting board. “A lot of my classmates never made it to graduation. They were called home because their parents were too scared to let them continue, or they were killed outright. M-my… one of my best friends was killed when we were home for holiday. Her family that lived only a few blocks away from mine was targeted. We never did get all the information, except that it was very bad and the aurors- our version of police- had to do double time to make sure there wasn’t a security leak. Entire neighborhoods had to be obliviated to make sure the statute of secrecy was kept.”

“Obliviated?” Steve interjected, a bit confused at the term. Darcy’s smile was wry and just a little bitter as she sliced the cucumbers for the salad, glancing up at him, then over at Bucky with a little trepidation.

“It’s a memory spell,” she said quietly. “It makes people forget and replaces the memory with something else. It’s one of the most misused spells in our arsenal, even if it’s a basic rule that people are only supposed to use it as an extreme measure only. When I… when Harry and I had to make our escape out of the UK, the nurse that helped me insisted that she be obliviated to protect us. If there was any record of our survival, we’d be in so much danger. Poppy said that we were more important than a few days’ memory.”

Bucky’s eyes clouded just slightly, but he nodded, reaching out to touch her hand as if to tell her silently that he understood.

“We- Sirius, Remus, James, and I, were recruited just before our graduation to join in the resistance,” Darcy continued after a moment, scraping chunks of cucumber off the cutting board and into the salad bowl with the lettuce and reaching for the small sweet peppers. She snorted, rolling her eyes, “It sounds like freaking Star Wars, doesn’t it? I guess it kinda was, though. Our headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, was the head of the order, and yeah, it was exactly like what it sounds. Undercover work, raids, trying to figure out where the Death Eaters were going to be sent next. Sirius and James were both high on the list of targets, because of their families. Sirius was the eldest son of one of Riddle’s most loyal dark families, and he’d very publicly thumbed his nose at everything they stood for. There was a lot of stuff they really wanted to burn him for.”

Darcy turned to the stove and put the kettle back on for more tea. She was quiet for a long time, long enough that Steve was opening his mouth to break the silence when she sighed and said, “I’m gonna glaze over most of the details, guys, cause not all of it is my story to tell, and you get the point. We were at war with the magical equivalent of Hitler. He wanted to erase everything non-magical, of ‘mixed’ or tainted blood. Magical creatures were on the hit list too, mass slaughtering of anything that wasn’t entirely human… including werewolves, veela, selkies, centaurs…”

Shuddering, she tugged at the collar of the sweatshirt she still wore, taking comfort in the soft fabric. “There was a prophesy, spoken by a woman interviewing for a spot at Hogwarts. It was overheard by a spy and reported to Riddle. It spoke of a child that would be his downfall, you know… the usual bullshit ‘chosen one’ spiel. Dumbledore, in his fucking _infinite wisdom_,” here Darcy’s voice dripped with bitter sarcasm, “decided that it would be best to keep this information to himself until the time was right. Meanwhile, we managed to graduate. James and Sirius went into auror training, I started schooling as a mediwitch- a healer, and Remus… Remus went to work for the order full time.”

Steve stood up and walked around the counter, taking the knife from her hand before pulling her into his arms. She fisted her hands in the material at his back and rested the side of her face against the solid wall of his chest. She didn’t fight it, and she didn’t fight the uprising emotion as she continued speaking.

“J-Jamie and I got married when we found out I… I was pregnant with Harry. We were nineteen, and I… I was a bit of a bitch about the whole thing. I didn’t want to get married just because I was knocked up, as much as I loved James, it was too much. We’d already gone through so much… I wasn’t even remotely over what happened with my arm and the Lestranges, and one of my best friends was being tossed to the wolves, quite literally, and James was being an utter ponce about it… And my parents…”

Darcy’s voice trailed off when she felt Bucky’s hand stroke the back of her head, then her back. “Take a breath, sweetheart. You’re all right, we’ve got ya. You’re safe.”

She did as he instructed, her arms tightening around Steve’s middle. “Finally, they all convinced me. It offered security and more protection for me and the baby, being married to a pureblood was slightly higher than being an unmarried muggleborn mother. If the Dark Lord won, Harry and I both would have been free game without the Potter name. There’s more than just signed papers to a marriage in the wizarding world. Harry is on the scrolls as the last heir of the Most Noble House of Potter, and Sirius, as his godfather and the last living Black heir will pass his title off to him when he’s gone.”

Darcy shook her head and pulled back from Steve’s embrace. She looked up at him for the first time since she’d taken the conversation to the kitchen. His expression was tender and spoke volumes about how he felt. In his eyes, she could read admiration, sympathy, and a bit of darkness that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He leaned in, and she held her breath, eyes going wide as he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“I just want to say, before you go on, that none of this has changed a thing about how I feel about you, Darcy. None of it. I’ve been over the moon for you since that first morning when you needed help getting your badge.”

The breath she let out was shaky, but she smiled at him and huffed a small laugh. “Dude, I was feeling like a total creeper for harboring not so innocent thoughts about America’s Sweetheart.”

“Not a creeper if your feelings are returned,” Bucky murmured close to her ear, and she shivered.

“What about you, Buck,” she breathed, leaning back into him just a little. “Does that make me a creeper for harboring not so innocent thoughts toward you too?”

“I’m not America’s Sweetheart,” he returned, eyeing Steve from over her shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye that had been missing for too long. Bucky pressed a kiss to the line of her jaw, just under her ear. “So, no threat of creeper-vibes.”

“Good to know.” Her voice was sweet and husky with amusement and something deeper, sending a thrill through both men. But she shook her head in the next moment and, even though she didn’t move from between them, she added solemnly, “You should wait to hear the rest of the tale before you decide if I’m worth the trouble or not.”

“Hey,” Steve said, a little bit of an edge in his voice that brought her attention back up to him. His gaze was earnest and bright as he stared down at her. “You’re worth the trouble of a dozen dames, Darcy Lewis. Dark Lord or not.”

She rolled her eyes but stood on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I could love you so easily, Steve Rogers, and it’s given me a few uneasy nights. Lemme get my story finished, then we can go from there, okay?”

Bucky’s hands tightened just slightly on her hips before letting her go, but she stopped him before he pulled back too far. Darcy cupped his face with the palms of her hands and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. “Me, you, and Steve will go from there.”

He didn’t let her go too far, pulling her in for a rather chaste press of his lips against hers. Then, he let her go and moved back around the counter to retake his seat. Light gray-blue eyes met dark blue, and Darcy’s breath hitched a little at the intensity she saw there; the promise. Steve squeezed her arm, then followed his friend’s lead, running his hand down the back of Bucky’s head as he went past.

Darcy leaned her hands against the countertop in the kitchen and looked over the scattered salad fixings, gathering herself to finish the tale. At the back of her mind, she was wondering where Sirius and Harry were. It was nearing five, and they weren’t usually out for so long without leaving a message on where they were. Most likely they were at the tattooing shop Sirius set up at occasionally for the clients that preferred a public studio over a private. Harry was a good companion for days like that, being a good distraction for the client and having the ability to keep himself entertained when needed.

“The boys had a fourth friend, someone who had shared their dorm for the entire seven years we were at Hogwarts. He was a brother to them, someone who none of us could ever think of as a traitor. When it was clear who Voldemort was targeting, James and I took Harry into hiding. We literally dropped off the map; our home was protected by the Fidelis charm that was keyed to a person who was known as our ‘secret keeper’. At first, it was a no-brainer to have Sirius as our keeper. He was a brother to us, an uncle to our son, and… and there was nothing that could make him give us up. But then, he and… and that fourth _friend_ convinced James and I that Sirius was too obvious of a choice. It would make him a target.”

She swallowed hard on the sharp rage that rose up at the thought of the man who had taken nearly everything from her.

“_Peter_ took over as secret keeper, and then sold us out. He tried to set Sirius up as the bad guy and thank Merlin it didn’t work…” Darcy shook her head, hands tightening on the countertop. She looked back up at them, her expression dark with horror and sadness. “Riddle made his move on Samhain, after everything was done for the night. I was upstairs with Harry, putting him to bed, and heard the door crash open. James… I could hear him shouting and I shut the nursery doors behind me to go downstairs… It was too late.”

Bucky shifted like he was going to stand to go to her, but Steve stopped him, gripping his arm and giving a minute shake of his head. Her voice wobbled, and it was painful to see her force the rest of the words out. “Riddle followed me back up the stairs, blasting through the warded door like it was nothing. I stood between him and my son, and he lashed out to try to get me to move, sending hex after hex to break my shields. When that didn’t work, he tried to send the killing curse.”

There was no humor in her bark of laughter. Shaking her head, she amended, “He _sent_ the killing curse at me and Harry. I don’t remember exactly what kind of protection spell I used then, but I threw everything I had into it. The next thing I remember is waking up in the Hogwarts infirmary, Severus next to my bed. The curse had rebounded off me and Harry and dismantled the dark lord. He was gone, and we were still alive.”

The kettle whistled, and she jumped at the sound before turning to pull it off the burner. “We knew that Harry and I were still targets, so with some help, we disappeared. Three caskets were interred in the Potter family plot in Godric’s Hollow, I became Darcy Lewis of Nowhere, Virginia, single mother to a wonderful little boy with no known father. Sirius and Remus stayed behind to make sure all the loose ends were neatly tied, and everyone was properly convinced of our deaths, then they bailed and came out here too. And that’s pretty much it.”

“The threat now, and always will be,” Darcy continued, pouring hot water for her tea without turning back toward them, “Is Voldemort’s followers. His network runs deep, guys. Very, very deep. If they knew Harry was alive… I don’t want to think about what could happen.”

They could hear the clatter of the front door opening and a ruckus of deep male voices, mixed with the higher note of a little boy’s clear giggles. Darcy turned around and braced herself for the incoming dark-haired tornado that flung himself into her legs in greeting.

“Mama! Moony came to the shop and we went for pizza! Then we went t’ see the tigers and then the mn’keys, and Siri said that _I_ was a mn’key and they should leave me there, but Moony said you’d miss me and make them come back, so we all came home! But first we stopped to get ice cream, b’cause you’ve been sad, Mama, and ice cream always makes you happy.”

Darcy’s laugh was watery as she scooped him up in her arms after the volley of words died down. She buried her face in his hair and held him tight, rocking a little back and forth. He wrapped his arms around her neck and held on, somehow knowing that she was upset and just needed to hang on for a minute.

“I love you, so much, little man,” she murmured. “So, so, so much.”

*~*~*

After dinner and a protesting Harry was put to bed, Darcy sat between Steve and Bucky on the sofa while Sirius and Remus took up the oversized armchair. Remus was sitting in the chair proper, with Sirius sitting on the floor between his feet, leaning against the footrest with an arm around the werewolf’s calf. They were sitting in a heavy quiet, no one really knowing where to start to get to conversation rolling without it being weird.

Finally, Darcy shifted on the couch, drawing her legs up to sit cross-legged, her knees overlapping Steve and Bucky’s thighs just slightly. Neither of them moved to give her more room and were more than willing to let her take their hands in hers. Sirius grinned and pressed a kiss to Remus’s knee before drawling, “About bloody time, Evans. So, the kneazel is out of the bag, I take it?”

Darcy nodded, her chest rising with a deep sigh, “It seemed a bit stupid after all this time. They saw the scars Riddle and the Lestranges left, and the story would have come out sooner or later.” She looked down at their joined hands, confessing slowly, “I feel a little weak right now, like I’ve done something incredibly selfish and stupid.”

Remus snorted rudely, startling her into looking up at him with raised eyebrows. He shook his head at her and reached down to tug the band out of Sirius’s hair so he could run his fingers through it. “This is the first time in a long while that you’ve actually thought outside of your own fear, Darce. Think about it. Are we better off doing all this alone, with no allies but each other if something goes sideways? Or with bloody Captain America and the Winter Soldier on our six? Not to mention the rest of the Avengers, who have all decided you and Harry are part of their team. Would you rather go on the run again, or stay and fight?”

Bucky’s fingers had tightened in hers as if he was afraid she was going to bolt away from him, and Darcy squeezed back reassuringly. She turned to look up at him, finding him watching her closely. She leaned into him, pressing her face into his shoulder as he adjusted to wrap his arm around her back, letting go of her hand, then retaking it with his metal one.

“I’m ready to fight, Remus. We’ve lived with this shadow for far too long.”

Remus’s grin was wide and proud as he watched her with the two men, both of which made her look so small by comparison. There was a tight knot of worry that was loosening in his chest as he let himself believe, finally, that she was going to be okay.

*~*~*


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so beautiful! Thanks for the kudos and comments, they seriously make my day! This chapter is a bit later coming out than I'd hoped, being that October is already past, but *shrug* better safe than sorry, right? This does have another epic dose of angst, guys, sorry! But it's good for plot development, right?! It does get happier for our babes eventually, though, never fear!

*~*~*

“Movie night?" Clint looked hopeful as he poked his head into the lab sometime in the late afternoon. It was a Saturday, and Darcy was at her limit with what she could handle from her science nerds. It had been a red-letter week, between back to back missions for the Avengers team, to Jane having a huge fight with Thor over something Darcy really didn't want to know the details of, ending up in a science bender with a cranky and slightly more unhinged than normal Dr. Foster. And finally, Tony Fucking Stark had slyly inserted sneaky questions into their daily interactions. And he was good at it.

She was trying not to get too worked up about it. Tony was like a goddamn shark smelling blood. Every time he made it through her defenses, and she reacted, his dark eyes gleamed. Steve and Bucky ran interference when they could, but they weren’t always around. Steve was good at distractions, and Bucky… well, her dark-haired boyfriend was a lot more abrupt and considerably less nice about how he went about it. And, _Merlin_, it was strange to think of herself as having any sort of romantic entanglements. It had been one of the only bright spots in her miserable month so far.

"Sorry, bud, but I have plans that include a fifth of whiskey and a tattooing needle," Darcy told Clint, giving one last go at organizing her desk before she bailed for the night. "I'm taking the next couple days to myself before I end up killing someone."

"Tattooing needle?" Clint's eyebrows went up and he looked a little surprised. She looked at him askew.

"What? You're looking at me like I have a second head, Barton. Didn't your spy-sharp eyes figure out that I'm not necessarily a stranger to tattoos?"

He shook his head with a snort, "That's not why I was surprised, Lewis. You have a way of speaking that sometimes catches me off guard."

Darcy shook her head and huffed a sigh. "Not to be super cranky, but I've had it up to my eyeballs with the 'figure Darcy out' game. There's nothing oddball or even special about me. Go hang out at any college campus and listen in on gabby millennial circles and you'll see."

"Woah, kid, I'm not trying to play any sort of puzzle game here." Clint raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender, but his eyes were worried as he looked at her. "You really seem on edge, is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

Darcy pursed her lips and tried to hold onto her annoyance. It was much easier to deal with than the creeping depression and anxiety that usually came with this time of year. October wasn't her favorite month, and she usually tried to be out of town for the duration. It was a bit easier this year with Steve and Bucky in the know and being there when she needed them the most, but she was still feeling raw and like the smallest thing would put her over the edge. Halloween was two nights away, and she could feel the creeping dread just under her skin. There was a mental clock in the back of her head, ticking away no matter how hard she tried to block it out.

She shook her head and stared at her messenger bag, not trusting herself to look at him. "I'm just having a bad week, Clint. Sorry I was snappy. I... I'm just gonna head home."

Clint watched her go, a worried scowl on his face. This was definitely more than just a bad week. He recognized depression for what it was, but there was something else bubbling just under that.

*~*~*

Darcy lay on her stomach in Sirius's basement studio, her head cushioned on her arms as he silently worked on her upper shoulders and back. Every year, they both holed up at least a day out of each week of October to work on her tattoos. The rest of the year, unless Sirius was bored and hijacked her for a new design, Darcy didn't really get new pieces.

Remus was proficient enough with tattooing to work on Sirius, and the two men had their own time. But this... this was hers and Siri's. She and Remus had their time together too, usually curled up around cups of chocolate and reading to each other in his attic library. Harry didn’t quite understand exactly why his mum was so upset and clingy all of a sudden, but her sweet boy was accommodating and seemed to have endless patience with her. They spent most of their time at home cuddled up watching cartoons and eating junk food that she usually tried to keep out of their diet.

Tonight, they sat without speaking, one of James's favorite wizarding records playing over the sound of the tattoo machine. Darcy just let herself cry into one of his old shirts that she kept in a compartment of her old school trunk in the back of her closet. Sirius was working on the large whomping willow landscape they'd designed for her back. They were three days into it, and it usually took this long to break through the blocks Darcy held over that part of her heart that carried James with her.

This was the only time she allowed for it, for this all-encompassing grief that she shoved back on the daily, just to keep her sanity. Harry needed her to be the strong, happy mom. He didn't need this shell of a woman that clung to the ideals of a boy she'd loved most of her life and lost in one night of painful and sudden trauma.

He was with Jane at the lab for the day, her best friend noting that the three of them needed some time. Darcy could feel Remus on the other side of her, his large, warm hand resting just above the waistband of her leggings. They'd started out with him reading to her and Sirius, the bittersweet poetry flowing in his comforting baritone. Then, it had faded to quiet, the volume on the record player turning up a bit at a time until that was the only noise that broke through the room.

Sirius paused, and Darcy could feel him wipe at the ink on her back, surveying what he'd done. When he sprayed her down with a mixture of green soap, water, and a mild healing potion, she took in a deep, shuddering breath.

He kissed the back of her head as the volume on the music faded. "C'mon, love. Let's go get some sugar into your system."

She allowed Remus to help her sit up, Sirius rubbing a light healing gel over the work he'd done, and she felt the tingle of a protection charm before he draped a clean, lightweight robe over her shoulders. She could still feel the sting of the fresh tattoo, but there wasn't the weird, wet stickiness that came with clothing coming in contact with the ointment and raw flesh.

Remus picked her up gently when her legs wobbled, resting her against his chest like he would with Harry, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist so he could carry her easier. She was like a child herself right then, completely checked out, still weeping softly into his neck.

Sirius stayed behind to do the minimum of cleanup, the professional in him demanding that he not leave his work station a hazardous mess. His heart ached for Darcy, sharing her pain as only he could. She was finally making strides in healing, processing more by speaking of the horrors of _that night. _Opening up about what was going on under the surface had always been hard for her, and that had been one of their shared traits that had brought them closer as friends beyond their love of James. It had taken a while for them to warm up to each other, but when it clicked… He would literally kill and die for her.

He and Remus had spent the last four years terrified for her, despite being as physically safe as possible. They had slowly but surely started to move on, carefully but purposely talking about their lost brother between themselves and Harry while watching Darcy bottle it all up and just not talk about it except for once a year near the anniversary. This year was different.

When he came upstairs, he stood in the doorway to the living room, watching his sister-friend lying curled up against his partner, her face pale and drawn. She looked exhausted and miserable, but there was a tint to the air that felt like she was finally releasing. It was a different kind of atmosphere; they could all feel it. He owed the huge hunks of muscle a night on the town, and maybe some tattooing time. Whatever. Probably both. Most definitely both, if they were going to be a part of the Black-Lupin-Lewis household.

Before he could move to join Remus and Darcy, Sirius felt the buzz of the wards- a gentle nudge saying that they had a friendly visitor- before there was a ringing of the doorbell. Darcy didn't even look up. In fact, her eyes were closed, burrowing deeper into Remus's side on the couch. A part of him really wanted to ignore it, but the rational side knew it could be Jane with Harry. She and Thor were supposed to have him overnight, the big lug of a thunder god being utterly besotted with the kid. For his part, Harry found his Uncle Thor to be a riot.

Sirius went into the kitchen for the ice cream, grabbing the pint and a trio of spoons after a moment of indecision. It wouldn’t be Jane; the scientist knew how to handle most kid-related upsets, and they’d know it if something was seriously wrong with Harry. The bell rang again, and he went to answer it, huffing in annoyance. Eyebrows going up nearly into his hairline, he looked out and into the eyes of Tony Stark himself. Over his shoulder, Sirius could see Steve, the tall man sending an apologetic smile that spoke volumes. Namely, _Sorry, but I couldn’t stop him, so I came to be a buffer._

"Yeah?"

"Is Darcy in?"

"Yeah, but it's not a good time for visitors. She's not feeling well."

The dark-haired engineer raised his eyebrows to mimic Sirius, and he had to give a smile. This was the first time he'd officially met Stark, and so far, he was already living up to the stories Darcy had told them about the man.

"Well, we're a bit worried about her, so could we pop in for a moment? Just wanna check in to see how she's doing, then we'll let her rest."

Sirius locked eyes with Steve, seeing the genuine concern in those honest blue eyes, and sighed. If Stark had been by himself, he would’ve very firmly turned the genius away. As it was, he went with the instinct that said that Cap was exactly what Darcy needed right now. It might just be the tipping point she needed, and if Stark was a problem, Sirius didn’t have the qualms about using an obliviate that his family did. "She'll have my balls for this, but come on in. It's been a rough time of it, and we're having a bit of a lie in."

Tony's eyes eagerly took in everything about Darcy's home, then the man she claimed as her brother. He was about the same height and build as Tony himself, but that was where the similarities ended. Tattooed and pierced, Darcy's brother looked like he belonged in one of the hipster bars off of downtown. His long dark hair was pulled back into a bun, a few ringlets falling loose in the back. He was wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a faded orange and red t-shirt with what looked like a griffin on the front, and the letters BLACK emblazoned on the back, with a gold ball with wings under it.

When they came around the corner and into the living room, Tony's heart sank at the sight of the usually upbeat and sparkly assistant. She was curled up next to another man, looking very small next to his bulk. Her eyes were closed, and it looked like she'd been crying pretty hard for a while. Her cheeks were bright red from the salt in her tears, and her lips were chapped from the moisture.

"Rem, this is Tony from Darcy's work. He and Steve popped in to check up on her."

Darcy whined just a little at the sound of his voice and burrowed a little deeper into the man next to her.

"Nice to meet you, I guess." Rem eyed them with unusual amber-green eyes that glinted in the dim lighting. Tony noted the scars that bisected the otherwise handsome face and neck. He was wearing a long-sleeved dark green t-shirt, but Tony could see more scars disappearing into the stretched-out neckline. They looked like claw marks.

"Darcy, honey?" Remus murmured to her, a large hand stroking her upper arm to get her attention. "Darling, you have company."

She cracked her eyes open, and Tony winced at how bloodshot they were when she looked at him. Her face crumpled and she turned her face away. "Remy, I can't. Too much like Jamie. Please." Her voice cracked painfully, and Sirius winced noticeably.

"Hey, doll," Steve ventured, stepping toward the couch, hesitating for just a moment before going to kneel in front of her. She was wearing a light flannel robe, but it looked like she wasn't wearing a shirt under it, her neck and collarbone bare to his eyes. Tony caught a glimpse of black and purple ink before the man holding Darcy reached out a scarred hand to pull the neck of the robe closed.

She blinked at him, reaching a hand up to touch her friend's where it rested against her chest. She curled her fingers over his and just rested it there. "Cap? Why're you here?"

"We got concerned when no one could get ahold of you, and when Tony insisted on coming over to check on you, I couldn’t let him come without me. Buck and I know you’re going through a lot right now, and I… I wanted to make sure you were okay. Bucky's been biting everyone's head off and sulking in the shadows when he's not annoying Jane asking about you, so I thought I’d ease his mind some. Hawkeye's even taken to hanging out near your lab area just to see if you've come back."

"That's not all he's been lurking near," Remus said, irritated. Darcy looked up at him questioningly. His face softened, and Steve's lips thinned into a line at the way he looked down at her. Over the last couple weeks, he’d gotten to know the other man a lot better and he knew that there was nothing but sibling love between them, but he couldn’t help the pang of jealousy at how close they were. Steve wanted to be the one holding her like that, comforting her and touching her with so much gentle tenderness. "No worries, poppet. I've been keeping an eye out. No one with ill intent can come close. Your bird has been hovering, but he's harmless enough."

"You didn't tell me he was here." Steve could see that she didn't have the energy or care left in her to really put any heat to it.

"Now why would I do that? A man's got pride, doesn't he? If he wanted us to know he was here, he'd have knocked on the door, yeah? Besides, love, we weren't really good for company."

Steve really didn't like the sound of that, and he locked eyes with Remus over her head. The sadness in the amber depths made his heart squeeze, and the former soldier reached out to touch Remus’s knee in sympathy. He knew that look of grief and worry, a little too well.

"Is there anything we can do," Tony asked from behind Steve, bringing the captain's attention back to the room as a whole.

Darcy flinched a little at the sound of his voice, and Steve finally understood what this was all about. Remus’s lips thinned, glancing up at Tony with an irritated glint that reminded Steve of Bucky when he first came back, a nearly feral quality that was wild and more than a little dangerous. There was a slightly surreal moment where he pictured Darcy’s adopted brother as a hybrid of his best friend and Bruce Banner. Most of their interactions had shown a reserved but sharp personality that had potential to be prickly and exacting, and Steve knew that there was a lot more underneath the exterior that would come out the more they hung out together.

Darcy sighed and shook her head, breaking the stare between the two men nearly sandwiching her. Her eyes were drifting closed again, and she rubbed her cheek against Remus's shoulder. "Nothing can bring my Jamie back, and that's all that would make things better."

Steve felt a shard of pain go through him, and he closed his eyes against it, almost missing her whispered, "I wish... I wish Riddle hadn't taken him, Remy. Why did I live, when he didn't? I took the same hit. I should have died with him."

"Don't say that, doll," Steve said without thinking. He should have let her have her moment, should have let her fade out into the exhausted sleep that was pulling at her. Her eyes fluttered, and he saw that instead of the blue he was used to seeing, her irises were the same dark peridot green as her son's. She focused on him for the first time, and her smile was sweet and so sad.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking. "Steve, I'm so sorry. I tried to stay away, I-I really did. Y-you and Bucky h-have taken part of my heart. I don't know what to do about it. I miss my husband, and it's like a hole in my soul. But you two have started filling it back in. You guys don't deserve a mess like this. I'm cursed, Cap, and sooner or later you'll see it. I can't watch you and Buck..." her voice trailed off, and she slowly relaxed against Remus, exhaustion finally taking her under.

_ Oh, honey._ Steve felt his own eyes start to water, and he reached out to stroke his hand down the side of her face.

“You want a beer or some ice cream,” Sirius asked from behind them, and Steve couldn’t help the smile that twitched his lips up. If Remus was a hybrid of Bucky and Bruce, Sirius was a mix of Stark and Natasha. Brash, outspoken, flirty and seemingly without a filter, mixed with a dangerous coldness that crept in at the oddest of times. Sirius Black wasn’t one to be trifled with, and Steve couldn’t forget Darcy’s words. _‘Sirius was the eldest son of one of Riddle’s most loyal dark families.’_ It took guts to walk away from family like that, and the more Steve learned about the deep depravity of the dark wizarding families, the more he understood the strength and bravery it took to thumb a nose at them.

Tony was opening his mouth to accept a beer, but Steve cut him off with a shake of his head. “We’ll take a raincheck on that, Sirius.” He got to his feet and bent down to kiss the top of Darcy’s head. “You guys need the time alone. We accomplished the mission, and now it’s time to go back home.”

Face moving into an impressive scowl, Tony glared at him, trying to convey something with his dark eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but Steve cut him off again with narrowed eyes and a firm, “Come on, Tony. We can do this later, okay?”

Unhappy, Stark blew air out his nose and pasted a smile on, “Of course, _Captain_. Thanks for letting us in to check up on the half-pint. She’s been worrying us all lately.”

Sirius’s own smile was sad as he walked them to the door, “Yeah, this time of year isn’t good. But she’ll be back to her normal lunacy soon enough.” He paused and locked eyes with Steve when he added softly, “Thanks for coming by, Cap. We can talk about it later, but I think it really helped her. And tell Scraps that whenever schedules line up, I’ve got a tattoo idea I’d love to etch into that back of his.”

Feeling a little less like he was intruding, Steve’s shoulders loosened as he herded Tony out of the foyer with a promise that he’d pass on the message and get in touch soon. The moment they were outside, and the door shut firmly behind them, Tony turned on him with an irritated growl.

“Are you fucking _kidding me_? I had a perfect opportunity to get to know the mysterious _‘brothers’ _Lewis is always on about, and you shove me out the fucking door like a… like a… _puppy!_”

“It’s called consideration, Stark. Maybe you should make it more of a practice?”

“I do have consideration! There was an _invitation_ to stay, I was just going to accept it.”

“Seriously, Tony, they don’t need any company right now. We barged in like barbarians and Sirius was nice enough to not kick us out on our asses. C’mon, let’s get back home.”

“And you! You’re on first name basis with them,” Tony bitched as he allowed Steve to herd him down the walk and through the gate. “How the hell did that come about?”

Steve rolled his eyes and just shook his head, letting the other man get it out of his system. It was going to be a long night.

*~*~*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fiiiiinnnnaaaallly I'm posting another chapter! It's super short, but I wanted to get this out there. I've been incredibly sick for the last few weeks with sinus and ear problems, so it's been really painful to try and sit to write. But I'm feeling much better and I have the time to do some binge writing. <3 This story and a few other plotlines are running through my brain, so you'll be seeing more from me soon. As for this chapter... :D Here we earn the *explicit* rating, meaning Steve and Bucky epic, emotional sexy-times. If you're not okay with that, read about halfway down, then wait for the next chapter. LOVE Y'ALL and all of the amazing support you've given me for this story. It seriously helps me keep motivated to continue.

*~*~*

“For the last time, Tony, I’m not going to fill you in on any of Darcy’s backstory,” Steve told the smaller man as they came into the private elevator heading to the upper levels of SI. Color was creeping up his neck and into his cheeks as irritation started going into true anger. “I don’t know what your hang up is, or why you think this is important. She’s not ready to share, and she will when she is.”

“Why would I think this is important,” Tony exclaimed, looking indignant and a bit angry himself. “This is the _second _time Lewis has alluded to me looking, sounding, and acting like someone who hurt her. How am I _not_ supposed to be concerned about this? Whoever this person is, is someone that was either very important to her, or was the cause of some major trauma, or both. I’m a PTSD trigger for someone I happen to like very much, and I don’t like it. I like it even less that people treat me like a goddamn creep for wanting to get more information about it.”

Steve stood very still, letting his fellow Avenger’s words roll through him. This was the first time Stark had actually said any of this, and it was jarring enough to make him re-evaluate the other man’s motives. Steve had been operating on pure emotion and protective instinct when it came to deflection of any kind of push toward Darcy, with good reason. She had very valid fears about letting people in on her past life and seeing her tonight had just been one more layer uncovered. But Tony… sometimes it was easy to forget that the other man didn’t always have a selfish bent to his motivations.

“Listen,” Steve said finally, taking a fortifying breath. He looked at the other man, their eyes meeting across the brightly lit elevator. “Darcy’s starting to open up about her past, a little at a time. She has reasons why she can’t just come right out and tell everyone. I’m sorry I was an ass about blocking you. I’m _not_ sorry I stepped in,” he clarified, “But I am sorry for the attitude that came with it.”

“Apology accepted,” Tony said stiffly, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. His dark eyes were still steady on Steve’s when he added, “But I can’t stay in the dark about this forever. We work together, I see her nearly every day, and I refuse to analyze every word or action. I don’t like it. You guys have this view of me as being a selfish dickhead, and you’re right, I am. But I’m not a fucking psychopath that can’t see that interacting with me causes Darcy a lot of stress. That kid has been through some shit, and I noticed the same scars on her that you did. Harry even has a few, and that makes me want to blow something up.”

“I get it,” Steve said, and hesitantly touched Tony’s shoulder. “I’ll speak with her when she’s feeling better. I agree that everyone needs to be let in, but it has to be her choice. Right now… right now she can’t.”

“No kidding,” Tony snorted, shaking his head and moving toward the elevator doors as it dinged the floor for the labs. “I need a drink.” Without saying anything more, he strode quickly down the hall and around the corner, no doubt going for his own workshop to bury himself in whatever projects he has going. Steve stood in the hallway for a moment, processing the evening and wondering what he should do now.

Bucky saved him from having to make up his mind by coming out of Foster’s lab, grabbing his hand and pulling him back toward the elevator. They were back inside and going up toward their floor before either of them spoke, Bucky’s hand not letting go of his or even loosening the grip.

“She’s okay,” Steve assured him quietly, “Or she will be.”

Bucky nodded, pulling him in close, his metal hand cupping the back of his neck before pressing their mouths together. Steve felt the tension that had been steadily building since Darcy had gone home two days ago melt away. He inhaled sharply through his nose, the smell of his best friend filling all his senses and soothing the damage from the last few hours. By the time they made it to their apartment, he was hard and more than willing to follow a still silent Bucky into their bedroom.

This physical side to their relationship had started not long after Stark’s medical and psych teams figured out how to deprogram the _Soldat_ conditioning and mostly repair the damage done by that hellish chair. It hadn’t been perfect, and there were still holes in his memory and in the behavioral fallbacks in stressful situations, but the trigger words had been nullified. It took nearly a year for Bucky to be comfortable leaving Steve’s side, and even now, his fallback was to find his lover and re-stabilize his reality when things were shaken.

Everyone assumed that Steve was the one that needed the reassurance, that he was the clingier of the pair. After witnessing the frenzied searching after the ‘restructuring’ of Shield and the exposure of Hydra cells within their ranks, there was no doubt that Captain Steve Rogers was still utterly devoted to finding his brother in arms. Even after the Winter Soldier had nearly killed him, he hadn’t given up. It had been that moment on the bridge that had cracked the control Hydra held over James Buchanan Barnes. With every sweep of destruction _Soldat_ heaped on the organization that had attempted to shatter every ounce of humanity he’d had, he pieced together more and more. One thing was steady in his mind, the _only_ piece that made sense, was the face of the man who refused to back away from him.

Now, Bucky needed the reassuring press of Steve’s skin against his. He needed the weight of him, the smell and the heat and the sound. Undressing was quick, starting the moment they stepped out of the hallway, Stevie understanding immediately and following the program by stripping out of his shirt and pants even as they hustled to the bedroom.

The coolness of the comforter against his back made him sigh, but Bucky’s jaw clenched when he pulled Steve closer, then on top of him. “God, Buck,” Steve growled, his hands huge and steady as they ran up the tight muscles of the torso and chest under him. “Look at you, sweetheart.”

Bucky reached up and gripped the back of his neck, pulling him in for a hungry, openmouthed kiss. When he was like this, he didn’t talk much. The want was too much and he didn’t trust what he might say, he didn’t trust his voice not to crack. His punk knew exactly what he was doing though, and when he was in a better frame of mind, Bucky sometimes marveled at the difference between this man and the boy that he’d known before war and Hydra and the serum. That boy was still in there, just like Jamie was still somewhere underneath all the scar tissue and trauma that had shaped the Winter Soldier.

He must have made some sort of sound, because Steve was pulling back, kissing along his jawline and up to murmur in his ear, “Shh, sweetheart, I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

And didn’t that send heat straight through the core of him. Steve settled between his legs, and Bucky’s eyes fluttered as they came flush, erections pressing and sliding together. “Everything’s good, I’ve got you, Jamie.” _Fuck_.

Then Steve was moving, his mouth burning a trail down the column of neck to his chest, teeth and tongue scraping and nipping before closing over one sensitive nipple. Bucky let out a strangled cry, his metal hand fisting in the blankets as the other spanned the back of Steve’s head. He arched up into the sensation, breath stuttering in his chest as the suction increased to run the edge of painful before stopping, cool air blowing across the skin. Before he could react, fingers were pinching both nubs, and that _fucking mouth_ was going further south, stopping only to suck a bruise into that spot just to the left of his hipbone before engulfing his cock in one slick move.

The sound that left his throat was raw and he couldn’t help the instinctive hip thrust up into the heat of Steve’s throat. Those gorgeous hands slid down to his abdomen, one pressing down to keep him still, and the other flowing to cup the back of his knee, pulling his leg up and to the side, opening him up. It was vulnerable and for a split second, Bucky almost fought it, before Steve moved his head up and down rapidly on his length and he relaxed into the touch. Before he knew it, those thick fingers were playing with his tightening balls and gathering excess saliva before running over the tight pucker underneath.

When a finger slipped past his rim, Bucky shouted and tightened, nearly there. Steve pulled up, sucking on the head before letting go completely to surge up and take his mouth. He was maneuvered roughly further up onto the bed, and before he knew it, Steve was running lubed fingers back across him and sinking two deep inside, the bulk of him pressing Bucky into the mattress, holding him down, hips nestled between his legs and giving just enough space for his hand to stretch and prepare. There was no easing into it, not right now, and Bucky couldn’t clearly hear any of the words his best friend was muttering over the rushing of blood in his ears, though he could feel the rumble of it in Steve’s chest.

“Jamie… oh, _fuck, Jamie_, you’re being so good for me, baby. So good.”

“Please, Stevie,” he rasped brokenly, finally finding his voice when a third finger joined the others and pumped hard and fast. “Please, please, _fuck_. I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” Steve said against his jaw before he pulled back, fisting his own erection before lining up. Bucky arched his back, head pressing into the mattress under him as the burn of penetration shot up his spine. He didn’t allow for adjustment, digging his heels into the bed and gripping Steve’s ass to pull them together. He needed _this_, the rapid coming together, the force of his partner’s thrusts drawing them both closer, the connection of their bodies and knowing that he was taken care of, that he wasn’t alone, and he could _feel everything_. His chest was tight with overwhelming emotion, the worry over Darcy, the ache of wanting to be there to protect her but knowing it wasn’t time yet, the isolation of his own fucked up thoughts… all of it was being consumed by the power of what his most trusted friend was doing to his body; what they were sharing here together.

It didn’t take long for him to come apart, his cock stimulated between his and Steve’s abdomens, sweat and precome slicking the way. A shifting of hips and a pair of palms cupping his backside, raising him just enough to hit that sweet spot head on had him shouting out his climax, fingers digging into Steve’s back, raking down his spine and sending him spiraling over the edge too.

Afterward, when Steve tried to move away, Bucky tightened his arms with a barely audible sound, not ready to be separated just yet. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

Burying his face into the sweaty stretch of Steve’s neck, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to bring himself back together. The last few days had been a special form of hell that he hadn’t been prepared to deal with. All of his instincts had been fighting to go and find their third and take her away, to hide her where no one could reach her. Seeing the pain behind those blue eyes had been hard, and it had been even harder to let her out of his sight. She was in danger, her son was in danger, and he’d had to let her walk out of his sight and into the care of people that he didn’t know.

Logic had kept him from storming her house and forcing the issue, but just barely. The anxiety and spiraling paranoia had reached a peak earlier when he’d learned that Stark had made the foray to her home. The only thing that had stopped him from barreling behind was that Steve was going to be there. Bucky had taken refuge in Foster’s lab, lurking in Darcy’s corner, sitting in her desk surrounded by her things. If Jane had thought it odd, she hadn’t said anything. She’d ignored him, instead putzing around with her machinery, white boards filled with equations, and occasionally texting Thor, who was out at the park for most of the day with Harry.

By the time Steve and Tony had returned, he’d been alone in the lab, staring at a leather-bound book sitting on the desk in front of him, silent and still. Thor had come to gather Jane for dinner and time with Harry in their rooms. No one had approached him, not even the little boy, who was unusually quiet as he came in to take his adopted aunt’s hand to tug her out of the lab. Bucky wasn’t even sure if Darcy’s son even noticed he was there. He probably hadn’t; Harry wasn’t the type to just let things slide without comment. There was a lot on the boy’s mind too.

He’d known the moment Steve had left the elevator, his hearing keyed to the sound of voices, and Bucky was moving before he’d even thought it through. The moment he’d seen his partner in the hallway, all broad shoulders and narrow hips, he’d gone straight for it. Thank the heavens that Steve was on board, probably already anticipating that it was going to come to this, the punk.

Now, he allowed himself to be taken care of, only making a fuss when Steve left him alone to go grab a cloth to clean them up. He settled back down, closing his eyes and wrapping himself around the only person he trusted to hold him up when he was so low.

*~*~*


End file.
